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Lewis Arundel 


17 TO 27 VaNdeWater 3 t 
ewYof^iq* 




TKe Seaside tiibrary, foclceF 


The Seaside Library, Pocket il^dltion, issued Tn-weeKiy. tsy suDscription ^6 per annum, 
righted 1885 by George Munro~£ntered at the Post Office at New York at second class rates— Sept. 28, 1885. 
























THE 


New York Fireside Companion. 


Esseiliall; a Paper for tiie Eok Circle. 


PURE, BRIGHT AND INTERESTING. 


THE FIRESIDE COMPANION numbers among its contributors the best of 
living fiction writers. 

Its Detective Stories are the most absorbing ever published, and its spe- 
cialties are features peculiar to this journal. 


A Fashion Article, embracing the newest modes, prices, etc., by a noted 
modiste, is printed in every number. 

The Answers to Correspondents contain reliable information on every con- 
ceivable subject. 


TERMS:— The New Yorr Fireside Companion will be sent for one year, 
on receipt of $3: two copies for $5. Getters-up of clubs can afterward add 
single copies at $2.50 each. We will be responsible for remittances sent in 
Registered Letters or by Post-office Money Orders. Postage free. Specimen 
copies sent free. 

GEORGE MUNRO, Publisher, 


P. 0. Box 3761. 


17 to 27 Vandewater Street, New York. 


LEWIS ARUNDEL 

OR, 


THE RAILROAD OF LIFE. 





FRANK E. SMEDLEY. 



NEW YORK: 

OEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 


IT TO 27 Vandewater Street. 


FRAXK E. SMEDL^:Y^S WORKS 


CONTAINED IN THE SEASIDE LIBRARY (P<30IvET EDITION) 
NO. I 

333 Frank Fairlcgli; or, J^cenes from the Life of a Private 

Pupil 

562 Lewis Arundel ; or, 3'he Railroad of Life 


PRJfOK.. 


20 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


CHAPTER 1. 

m WHICH THE TRAIN STARTS AND THE READER IS INTRODUCED 
TO THREE FIRST- CLASS PASSENGERS. 

“ Surely lie output to be here by this time. Rose; it must be past 
nine o’clock. 

“ Scarcely so much, mamma; indeed it wants a quarter of nine 
yet; the coach does not arrive till halt past eight, and he has quite 
four miles to walk afterward.” . 

” Oh! this wailing, it destroys me,” rejoined the first speaker, ris- 
ing from hei seat, and pacing the room with agitated steps; how 
you can contrive to sit there, drawing so quietlv, i do not compre- 
hend!” 

” Does it annoy you, dear mamma?— why did you not tell me so 
before?” returned Rose, gently, putting away her drawing apparatus 
as sUe spoke. No one would have called Rose .Arundel handsome, 
or even pretty, and yet her lace had a charm about it, a charm that 
lurked in the depths of her dreamy gray eyes, and played about the 
corners of her mouth wnen she smiled, and sat like a glory upon 
her high smooth forehead. Both she and her mother were clad in 
the deepest mourning, and the traces of some recent heart -tell sor^ 
row might be discerned in either face. A stranger would have 
taken them tor sisters rather llian for mother and daughter; for 
there were lines of Ihonglit on Rose’s brow which her Iweut}'' years 
scarcely warranted, while Mrs. Arundel, at eight- arid-thirty, looked 
full five years younger, despite her widow’s cap. 

” 1 have been thinking, Rose,” resumed the elder lady, after a 
short pause, during which she continued pacing the room most as- 
siduously. ”1 have been thinking that if we were to settle near 
some large town, 1 could give lessons in music and singing; my 
voice is as good as ever it was— listen;” and, seating herself at a 
small cottage piano, slie began to execute some difficult solfeggi in 
u rich clear soprano, with a degree of ease and grace which proved 
her to he a tinisbed singer; and, apparent 1}' carried away h}^ the 
feeling the music had excitcJ, she allowed her voice to flow, as it 
were unconsciously, into the words of an Italian song, which she 
continued for some moments, wiihout noticing a look of pain which 
shot across her daughter’s pale features. At length, suddenly 
breaking off, she exclaimed in a voice broken with emotion, ” Ah! 
what am 1 singing?” and, burying her face in her handkerchief. 


4 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


she burst into a flood ot tears;-— it Had been her husband’s favorite 
song. 

Kecovering herself more quickl}^ than from the violence of her 
grief might have been expected, she was about to resume her walk, 
when, observing, for the first time, the expression of her daughter's 
face, she sprung toward her, and placing her arm caressingly round 
her waist, kissed her'tendeily, exclaiming in a tone of the fondest 
affection, ‘'Rose, my own darling, 1 have distressed you by my 
heedlessness, but 1 forget everything now!” IShe paused; then 
added, in a calmer tone, “ Really, love, 1 have been thinking seri- 
ously of wliat 1 said just now about teaching; — it 1 could but get a 
suflicient number ot pupils, it would be much better than letting 
you go out as governess; tor we could live togeilier then; and I 
know 1 shall never be able to part with 3mu. Besides, vou would 
be miserable, managing naughty children all day— throwing away 
jmur talents on a set ot stupid little wretches— such drudgery would 
wear you to death.” 

‘‘ And do jmu think, mamma, that I could be content to live in 
idleness, and allow you to work for my support?” replied Rose, 
while a faint smile played over her expressive features. ” Oh, no; 
Lewis will try to obtain some appoinlmenl ; you shall live with 
him, and keep his house, while I will go out as governess for a few 
years; and we must save all we can, until we are rich enough to live 
together again.” 

“And perhaps, some day we may be able to come back and take 
the dear old cottage, if Lewis is very lucky, and should make a 
loriune,” returned Mrs. Arundel. “ How shall we be able to be{\r 
to leave it?” she added, glancing I'ound the room TegretflllIv^ 

” How, indeed!” replied Rose, with a sigh; ” but it must be 
done. Lewis will not teel it as we shall— he has been away so 
long.” 

” It seems an age,” resumed Mrs. Arundel, musing; “how old 
wf.s be when he left W^estminster?” 

” Bixteen, was he not?” replied Rose. 

‘‘ And he has been at Bonn three years. Why, Rose, he must be 
a man by this time!” 

‘‘ Mr. Fiere wrote us word lie was taller than himself last year, 
if you recollect,” returned Rose. 

” Hark!” exclaimed Mrs. Arunflel, starting up, and going to the 
window, wiiich opened in tne French fashion upon a small flower- 
garden. As she spoke the gate-bell rang smartly, and in another 
moment the person outside, iiaving apparently caught sight of the 
figure at the window, sprung ligiitl}^ over the paling, crossed the 
lawm in a couple of bounds, and ere the slave of the bell bad an- 
swered its impatient summons, Lewis was in his mother’s arms. 

Alter the first greeting, in whicli smiles and tears had mingled in 
strange fellowship, Mrs. Arundel drew her son toward a table, on 
wiiicii a lamp was burning, saying as she did so, ” Why, Rose, can 
tliis be our little Lewis? He is as tall as a grenadier! Heads up. 
sir! Attention! You are going to he inspected. Do you remem- 
ber when the old sergeant used to drill us all, and wanted to teaeri 
Rose to fence?” 

Bmiliug at his mother’s caprice Lewis Arundel drew himself up 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


if 

to his full height, and, placing his back against the wall, stood in 
the attitude ot a soldier on parade— his head just touching the 
frame of a picture which huug above him. The light ot the lamp 
shone full upon the spot where he had stationed himself, displaying 
a face and figure on which a mother’s eye might indeed rest with 
pride and admiration. Considerably above the middle height, his 
figure was slender, but singularly graceful; his head small and intel- 
lectual-looking. The features, exquisitely formed, were, it any- 
thing loo delicately cut and regular; and, together with a brilhaut 
complexion and long silken eyelashes, tended to impart an almost 
feminine character to his beauty. The expression ot his counte- 
nance, however, etiectually counteracted any such idea; no one 
could observe the flashing of the dark eyes, the sarcastic curl of the 
short upper lip, the curved nostril slightly drawm back, the stern 
resolution ot tlie knitted brow, without tracing signs ot pride un- 
broken, stormy feelings and passions unsubdued, uni an iron will, 
which, according as it might be directed, must prove powerful tor 
gooil or evil. His hair, which he wore somewhat long, was like 
liis mother’s, ot that jet black color characteristic of the inhabitants 
ot a southern clime rather than of the descendants of the fair- haired 
Saxons, while a soft down of the same dark hue as his waving curbs 
fringed the sides ot his face, affording promise of a goodly crop ot 
w’hiskers. Despite the differences ot feature and expression— and 
they were great — there was a decided resemblance between the 
brother and sister, and the same indescribable charm which made it 
next to impossible to watch Rose Arundel without loviug her shed 
its f unshiiie also over Lewis’s face wiien he smiled. 

After surveying her son atteutively, with eyes which sparkled 
with surprise and pleasure, Mrs. Arundel exclaimed, “ Why, how 
the boy is altered! Is he not improved, Rose?” As she spoke she 
inv< luntarily glanced from Lewis to the picture under which he 
stood. It was a half-leugth portrait of a young man, in what ap- 
peared to be some foreign uniform, the hand resting on the hilt of 
a cavalry saber. Tlie features, though scarcely so handsome, were 
strikingly like tJiose of Lewis Arundel, the greatest diflerence being 
that the liair in the portrait was of a rich brown instead of black. 
After comparing the two for a moment Mrs. Arunael attempted to 
speak, but her voice failing her from emotion, she burst into tears, 
and hastily left the room. 

” Why, Rose, what is it?” exclaimd Lewis in surprise. ” Is my 
mother ill?” 

'‘Ku; it is your likeness to lliat picture, Lewis ciear, that has 
overcome her; you know it is a portrait of our dearest father ” (her 
voice fullered as she pronounced his name), ” taken just after they 
were married, 1 believe.” 

Lewis regarded the picture attentively; then averting his head, as 
if he could not bear that even Rose should witness his grief, he 
threw himself on a sofa, and concealed his face with his hands. 
Recovering himself almost immediately, he drew his sister gently 
toward him, and placing her beside him, asked, as be stroked her 
glossy hair: 

” Rose, love, how is it that 1 was not informed of our poor father’s, 
illness? Surely a letter must have miscarried.” 


“ Did not mamma explain to you, tb^n, hnw sudden it was?” 

“Not a word; she only wrote a few hurried lines, leading me to 
prepare tor a great shook; then told me that my father was dead; 
and entreating me to return immediately, broke ofi abruptly, say- 
ing she could write no more.” 

“ Poor mamma! she was quite overcome by her grief, and yet 
she was so excited, and so anxious to save me, she would do every- 
thing herselt. 1 wished her to let me write to you, but she object- 
ed, and I was afraid of annoying her.” 

” It was most untortunatei” returned Lewis; ” in her hurry she 
misdirected the letter; and, as I told you when i wrote, 1 was from 
home at the time, and did not receive it till three weeks after it 
should have reached me. 1 w’as at a rifle match, got up by some ot 
the students, and had jiis‘t gained the prize, a pair of silver-mounted 
pistols, when her letter was put into my hand. Fancy receiving 
such news in a scene of gayety!” 

“ Ilow' exquisitely, painful. My poor brother!” saiS Kose, while 
the tears she could no longer repress dimmed her bright eyes. Alter 
a moment she continued, “ But 1 was going to tell yon— it was 
more than a month ago— poor papa had walked over to tVarlington 
to see about selling one ot his paintings. Did you know thnt he 
had lately made his talent for painting seive as a means of adding 
to our income?” 

” Richard Frere told me of it last year,” replied Lewis. 

” Oh, yes, Mr. Frere was kind enough to get introductions to sev- 
•eral picture-dealers, and was of the greatest use,” continued Kose. 
” Well, when papa came in, he looked tired and harassed ; and in an- 
swer to my questions, lie said he had received intelligence wiiicli 
had excited him a good deal, and added something about being 
called upon to take a very impoitant step, i lett liim to feich a 
glass of w’ine, and when I returned to my horror his heiul was lean- 
ing forward on his breast, and he was both speechless and insensi- 
ble. We instantly sent for the nearest medical man, but it w^as of 
no use; he pronounced it to he congestion of the brain, and he giive 
us no hope; liis opinion was but too correct, for in less than six 
hours all was over.” 

‘‘How dreadtul!” murmured Lewis; “my poor Rose, how 
shocked you must have been!” After a few minutes’ silence he 
continued, “And wliat was this news which produced such an 
effect upon my father?” 

“ range to say,” replied Rose, “we have not the slightest 
notion. No letter or other paper has been found whicli could at 
all account tor it, nor can we learn ttiat papa met any one at War- 
ling on likely to have brought him news. The only clew we have 
been able to gain is, that Mr. Bowing, who keeps tlie library tliere, 
says papa came in as usual to look at the daily papers, and as lie 
waj- reading, suddenly uttered an exclamation ot surprise, and put 
his hand to his brow. Mr. Bowing was about to inquire wlietlier 
anything was the matter, wlien he was called aw^ay to attend to a 
custouif r; and when he was again at liberty papa had left the shop. 
Mr. Bowing sent us the paper afterward, but neither mamma nor f 
could discorer in it anytidng that we could imagine at all likely to 
have aliected papa so strongly.” 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


7 


“How singular!” returned Lewis, musing. What could it pos- 
sibly have been? You say my father’s papers have been examined?”^ 

“ Yes, mamma wrote to Mr. Coke, papa’s man of business lu 
London, and he came down directly, but nothing appeared to throw 
any light on the matter. Papa hud not even made a will. But oh I 
Levvis, do you know we are so very, very poor?” 

“ 1 suspected as much, dear Rose; 1 knew my father’s was a lire 
income. But why speak in such a melancholy tone? surely my 
sister has not grown meicenary?” 

“ Scarcely that, 1 hope,” returned Rose, smiling through the tears- 
which had flowed freely during this recital, ” but there is some 
difterence between being mercenary and regretting that we are so 
poor that we shall be unable to live together ; is there not, Lewis 
dear?” 

“ Unable to live together!” repeated Lewis, slowly. “ Yes, welU 
1 may ot course be obliged to leave you, but 1 shall not accept any 
employment which will necessitate my quitting England, so 1 shall 
often coine and taKe a peep at you.” 

” Oh! but, Lewis, love, it is worse than that — we shall not be able 
to — liush! here comes mamma; we will talk about this another 
time,” 

” Wh3', Lewis,” exclaimed Mrs. Arundel, entering the room with 
a light elastic step, without a trace of her lateemotion visible on her 
animated countenance, ” what is this? here’s Rachel complaining 
that you have brought a wild beast with you, which has eaten up 
all the tea cakes.” 

” Let alone fright’ning the blessed cat so that she’s flowed up the 
chirnley like a whirlpool, and me a’most in tits all the lime, the 
brute! But I’ll not sleep in the house with it, to be devoured like a 
cannibal in my quiet bed, if there w^as n(»t another silivation in b^iis- 
sex!” — And here Rachel, a stout serviug-womau, with a lace 
which, sufliciently red by nature, had become the deepest crimson 
from fear and auger, burst into a flood of tears, wiiieh, mingling 
with a tolerably tliick depositor soot, acquired during the huiried 
rise and progress of the outraged cat, imparled to her the appear- 
ance of a variegated variety of ^female Ethiopian Serenader. 

” Rachel, have you forgotten me?” inquired Lewis, as soon as he 
could speak for laughing. “ What are you trying about? You 
are not so silly as to be afraid of a dog? Here, Faust, where are 
you?” As he spoke, he uttered a low peculiar wmistle; r.rid in 
obedience to his signal, a magnificent Livonian wolt Loiind, which 
bore sutflcienl likeness to the animal it w'as trained to destroy to 
liave alarmed a more discriminating zoblogist than poor Rachel, 
sprung into the room, and, delighted at rejoining his master, began 
to testify his joy so roughly as not only to raise the terror of that 
damsel to screaming point, but to cause Mrs. Arundel to interpose 
a chair between herself and the intruder, while Rose, pale but si- 
lent, shrunk timid)}^ into a corner of the apartment. In an instant 
the expression of Lewis’s face changed; his brow contracted, his 
mouth grew stern, and fixing his flashing eyes upon those of the- 
dog, he uttered in a deep low voice some German word cf com- 
mand; and as he spoke the animal dropped at his feet, where it 


8 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


crouched in a suppliant attitude, gaziu" wistfully at his master's 
countenance, without offering to move. 

“ You need not have erected a barricade to defend yourself, my 
dear mother,” said Lewis, as a smile chased the cloud w’hich had 
tor a moment shaded his features; ‘‘ the monster is socm quelled. 
Rose, you must learn lo love Faust— he is my second self; come and 
stroke him.” 

Thus exhorted, Rose approached, and patted the dog’s shaggy 
head, at first timidly, but more boldly when she found that he still 
retained his crouching posture, merely repaying her caresses by fix- 
ing his bright, truthful eyes upon her face lovingly, and licking his 
lips w’iih his long red tongue. 

“Now, Rachel,” continued Lewis, “it is your turn; come, 1 
must have you good friends with Faust.” 

“ No. I’m much obliged to you, sir, 1 couldn’t do it, indeed— no 
disrespect to you, Mr. Lewis, though you have growed a man in 
loreiirn parts. 1 may be a servant of a; I work, but I didn’t engage 
myself to look after wild beastses, sir. No! nor wouldn’t, it you 
was to double my wages, and put the washin’ out— 1 can't abear 

them. ” 

“Foolish girl! it’s the most good natured dog in the world- 
Here, he’ll give you his paw; come and shake hands with him.” 

“ 1 couldn't do it, sir; I’m agoing to get the tea ready. 1 won’t 

then, that’s flat,” exclaimed Rachel, backing rapidly toward the 
door. 

“Yes, you will,” returned Lewis quietly, “ every one does as 1 
bid;” and, grasping her wrist, while he fixed his piercing glance 
sternly upon her, he led her up to the dog. and in spite of a taint 
show of resistance, a half-frightened, halt indignant “1 daresay, 
indeed,” and a muttered hint of her conviction “ that he had lately 
been accustomed to Irive black nigger slaves in Guinea,” wiih an 
intimation “ that he’d find while flesh and blood wouldn’t stand it. 
and didn’t ought to, neither,” succeedeil in making her shake its 
great paw, and finally (as she perceived no symptoms of {XiQhuriian- 
imrom propensities with which her imagination had endowed it) pat 
its shaggy sides. “ There, now you’ve made up your quarrel, 
Faust shall help you to carry my things upstairs,” said Lewis; and 
slinging a small traveling valise round the dog’s neck, he again ad- 
dressed him in German, when the well-trained animal left the room, 
with the astonished but no longer refractory Rachel. 

“ You must be a conjurer, Lewis,” exclaimed his mother, who 
had remained a silent but amused spectator of the foregoing scene; 
“ why. Rachel manages the whole house. Rose anu 1 do exactly 
what slie tells us, don’t we, Rose? What did you do to her? was it 
mesmerism?” 

“ I made use of one of the secrets of the mesmerist, ceitainly,” 
replied Lewis; “ I managed her by the power of a strong will over 
a weak one. ” 

“ I should hardly call Rachel’s a weak will,” observed Rose, 
with a qiuet smile. 

“ ^du must confess, at all events, mine is a stronger,” replied 
Lewis; “ when 1 consider it necessary to carry a point, 1 usually 


LEWIS AHL'NDEL. 9 

find some way of doinsj it;— it was necessary for Faust’s sake to 
manage Kachel, and 1 did so.” 

He spoke carelessly, but there was something in his bearing and 
manner which told of conscious power and inflexible resolution,, 
and you felt instinctively that you were in the presence of a master- 
spirit. 

Tea made its app*earance: Rachel, over whom the charm still ap- 
peared to retain its power, seeming in the highest possible good 
humor — a frame of mind most unusual with that exemplary woman, 
who belonged to that trying class of servants who, on the strength 
of their high moral character and intense respectability, see fit to 
constitute themselves a kind of domestic scourge, household horse- 
hair shirts (if we may be allow^ed the expression), and, bent on fiiL 
filling their mission to the enth^ keep their martyred masters and 
mistresses in a constant state of mental soreness and irritation from 
morning till night. Tea came — the cakes demolished by the repro- 
bate Faust in the agitation of Ids arrival (he w^as far too well-bred 
a dog to have done such a thing bad be had lime for reflection) hav- 
ing been replaced by some marvelous impromptu resulting from 
Rachel’s unhoped for slate of mind. Tlie candles burned brightly; 
the tire (tor though it was the end of May, a fire was still an agree- 
able companion) blazed and sparkled cheerily; but yet a gloom 
hung over the little party. One feeling was uppermost in each 
mind, and saddened every heart. He whom they had loved with a 
deep and tender affection, such as but tew of us are so fortunate as 
to call forth, the kind and indulgent husband and father, the dear 
friend rather than the master of that little household, had been taken 
from amongst them; and each word, each look, each thought of the 
past, each hope for the future, served to realize in its fullest bitter- 
ness the lieav}" loss they had sustained. Happy are the dead whose 
virtues are chronicled, not on sculptured stone, but in the faithful 
hearts of those whom they have loved on earth! During the even- 
ing, in the course of conversation, Mrs. A^rundel again referred to 
the project of teaching music and singing. Lewis made no remark 
on the matter at the lime, though his sister fancied, from his com- 
pressed lip and darkened brow, that it had not passed liiin unob- 
served. When the iwm ladies w^ere about to retire for the night, 
Lewis signed to his sister to remain; and, having lighted his moth- 
er’s candle, kissed her affectionately, and wished her good-night, 
he closed the door. There was a moment’s silence, which was 
broken by Lewis saying abruptly, “ Rose, what did my mother 
mean about giving singing lessons?” 

” Dear unselfish mamma!” replied Rose, ” always ready to sacri- 
fice her own comfort for those she loves! She wants, when we leave 
Hie cottage, to settle near some large town, that she may be able to 
teach music and singing (you know what a charming voice she has) 
in order to save me from the necessity of going out as govermss.” 

” Leave the cottage! go out as governess!’* repeated Lewis in a 
Jow voice^ as if he scarcely understood the purport of her words; 
” are you mad?” 

” 1 told you, love, we are too poor to continue living here, or in- 
deed anywhere, in idleness; we must, at all events for a few years, 
work for our living; and you can not suppose I would let mamma—” 


10 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


“ Hush!” exclaimed Lewis sternly, “ you will distract me.” He 
paused for some minutes in deep thought; then asked, in a cold, 
hard tone ot voice, which, to one skilled in read'n^i^ the human heart, 
told ot intense feelings and stormy passions kept down by the power 
of an iron will, ” Tell me, what is the amount ot the pittance that 
stands between us and beggary?” 

‘‘ Dear Lewds, do not speak so bitterly; we have still each other’s 
love remaining, and Heaven to look forward to; and with such 
blessings, even poverty need not rendei us unhappy.” And, as she 
uttered these words, Rose leaned fondly upon her brother’s shoulder, 
and gazed up into his face with a look of such deep afieclion, such 
pure and holy ctintidence, that even his proud spirit, cruelly as it 
had been wounded by the unexpected shock, could not withstand it. 
Placing his arm around her, he drew her toward him, and kissing 
her high, pale brow, murmured: 

” Forgive me, dear Rose, 1 have grown harsh and stern of late — 
all are riot true and good as you are. Believe me, it was for your 
sake and my mother’s that i felt it; tor myself, I heed it net, save 
as it impedes freedom ot action. And nciw, answer mj’’ question, 
what have we left to live upon!” 

” About £100 a year was what Mr. Coke told mamma.” 

” And, on an average, what does it cost living in this cottage as 
coiiifoilable as you have been accustomed to do?” 

‘‘ Poor papa used to reckon we spent £200 a year here.” 

‘‘No more, you are certain?” 

‘‘ Quite.” 

Again Lewis paused in deep tnought, his brow resting on Ills 
hand. At length be said, suddenly, 

‘‘ Yes, it no doubt can be done, and shall. Now, Rose, listen to 
me. While 1 live and can work, neither my mother nor you shall 
do any tiling ior your own support, or leave the rank you have held 
in society. You shall retain this cottage, and live as have been 
accustomed to do, and as befits the widow and daughter of Jiim that 
is gone.” 

” But, Lewis—” 

‘‘ Rose, you do not know me. When 1 left England 1 was a boy 
in years, perliaps 1 arc little else even yet; but circumstances have 
made me older than my years, and in mind and disposition I am a 
man, and a determined one. I teed strongly and deeply in regard 
to the position held by my mother and sister, and therefore on this 
point it is useless to oppc.se me.” 

Rose looked steadily in his face, and saw that what he said waS 
true; therefore, exercising an unusual degree ot common sense for* 
a woman, she held her tongue, and let a willful man have his way. 

Reader, would you know the circumstances which had changed 
Lewis Arundel from a boy to a man? They are soon told. He had 
loved, willi all the pure but ardent passion, the fond and trusting 
confidence of youth— he had loved, and been deceived. 

Lewis had walked some miles that day, and had traveled both by 
sea and land; it may therefore reasonably be supposed that he was 
tolerably sleepy. Nevertheless, before he went to bed, he sat down 
and wrote the following letter: 


LEWIS ARUKDEL 


11 


“ My dear Frere, — There were but, two men in (he world of 
whon. 1 would have asked a favor, or from whom 1 would accept 
assistance — my poor father was one, you are the oilier. A week 
since 1 received a letter to tell me of my lather’s death: yesterday 1 
returned to England, to learn that 1 am a beggar. Had 1 no tie to 
bind me, no one but myself to consider, 1 should instantly quit a 
country in which poveiMy is a deadly sin. In Germany or Italy 1 
could easily make myself independent, either as painter or musician; 
and the careless fi’eedom of the artist life suits me well; but the 
little that remains from my lather’s scanty fortune is insufficient to 
support my mother and sister. Therefore 1 apply to you. aud if 
you can help me, you may — your willingness to do so 1 know, 1 
must have immediately some situation or employment which will 
bring me in £200 a year; though, it my purchaser (for 1 cousider 
that 1 am selling myself) will lodge aud feed me, as he does his 
lior^e or his dog, £50 less would do. 1 care not what use 1 am put 
to. so that im moral degradation is altacheal to it. You know what 
1 am fit tor as well or better than 1 do myself. 1 have not forgotten 
the Greek and Lat n flogged into us at AVesl minster, and have added 
llnieto French, Italian, and, of course, German; besiles picking- 
up sundry small accomplishments, which may induce somebody to 
otter a higher price for me; and as the moie 1 get, the sooner 1 shall 
stand a chance of becoming my own master again, 1 feel intensely 
mercenary. Write as soon as possible, for, m my present frame of 
mind, inaction wdll destroy me. 1 long to see you again, old fel- 
low. I have not forgotten the merry fortnight we spent together 
last year, wlnn 1 introduced you to student-life in the ‘ Valerland;’ 
nor the good advice you gave me, which if 1 had acted on—. Well, 
regre ts are useless, if not worse. Of course 1 shall have to come up 
to town, in which case we can talk; so, as I hate writing, and am 
tired as a dog, 1 may as well wind up. Good b 3 "e, till we meet. 

“ Your aflectionate friend, 

“ Lewis Arundel. 

*‘P.S. Talking of dogs, you don’t know Faust— that happened 
after you came away last year; but wherever 1 go, or whoever takes 
me, Faust must go also. lie js as large as a calf, which is incon- 
venient, aud 1 doubt whether he is full gi'own yet. 1 dare say you 
think this childish, and very likely you are right, but i mvst have 
my dog. 1 can’t live among strangers wiihoul something to love, 
and that loves me; so don’t worry me about it, there’s a good fel- 
low. Can’t you write to me to-morrow?” 

Having in some measure relieved bis mind by finishing this letter, 
Lewis undressed, and sleep soon effaced the lines which oitter 
Ihoughts and an aching heart had stamped upon his fair young 
blow. 


CHAPTER II. 

SHOWING HOW LEWIS LOSES HIS TEMPER AND LEAVES HIS HOME, 

” Has the post come in yet, Rose?” inquired Mrs. Arundel, as 
she made her appearance in the Dieaktast-ioom the following morn' 
ing 


12 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


“ No, mamma; it is late to-day, 1 think.” 

” It is always late when 1 particuhrly expect a letter; that old 
creature Richards, the postman, has a spite against me, I am certain, 
because I once said in his hearing that he looked like an owl — the 
imbecile!” 

” Oh, mamma, he’s a charming old man, with his venerable 'white 
hair.” 

“ Very likely, my dear, but he’s extremely like an owl, neverthe- 
less,” replied Mrs. Arundel, cutting bread-and-butter with thequick- 
ness and regularity ot a steam engine as she spoke. 

” Here’s the letters, ma’am,” exclaimed Rachel, entering with a 
polished face, beaming out of a marvelous morning cap, composed 
of a spicies of opaque muslin (or some analogous female fabric) 
which appeared to be laboring under a violent eruption of little 
thick dots, strongly suggestive of small pox. ” Llere’s the letters, 
ma’am. If you please, i can’t get Mr. Lewis out of bed no how, 
though I’ve knocked at his door three times this here blessed morn- 
ing; and the last time he marie a noise at me in French, or some 
other wicked foreigneedng lingo; which is what 1 won’t put up 
with— no! not if you 'was to go down upon your bended knees to 
me without a hassock.” 

“Give me the letters, Rachel,” said Mrs. Arundel eagerly. 

” Letters, indeed!” was the reply, as, with an indignant loss of 
the head, Rachel, whose temper appeared to have been soaked in 
vinegar during the night, flung the wished-for missives upon tha 
table; ‘‘ letters, indeed! them’s all as you care alx)ut, and not a poor 
gal as slaves and slaves, and gets insulted for her trouble; but I’m 
come to—” 

‘‘ You’ve come to bring the toast just at the right moment,” said 
Lewis, who had approached unobserved, ” and you are going down 
to give Faust his breakfast; and be is quite ready for it, loo, poor 
fellow!” 

As he spoke, a marvelous change seemed to come over the temper 
and counteuance ot Rachel; her ideas, as she turned to leave the 
mom, may be gathered from the following soliloquy, which ap- 
peared to escape her unawares: ” lie’s as ’andsome as a ciuke. let 
alone his blessed father; but them was she eking words for a Chris- 
tian with a four years’ carikter to put up with.” 

During Rachel’s little attempt at an emeute, which the appearance 
(X Lewis bad so immediately quelled, Mrs. Arundel bad been eager- 
ly perusing a letter, which she now handed to Rose, saying, with 
an air of triumph, ‘‘ Read that, my dear.” 

” Good news, 1 hepe, my dear mother, from your manner?” ob- 
served Lewis, interrogatively. 

‘‘ E.xcellent news.” replied Mrs. Arundel gayly; “show your 
brother the letter. Rose. (Jb! that good, kind Lady Lombard!” 

Rose did as she was desired, but from the anxiety with which she 
scanned her brother’s countenance, as he hastily ran his eye over 
the writing, it was evident she doubted whether the effect the letter 
might produce upon him would be altogether of an agreeable nat- 
ure. Nor was her suspicion unfounded, tor as he became ac- 
quainted with its contents, a storm-cloud gathered upon Lewis's 
brow. The letter was as follows: 


LEWIS AKCXDEL. 


13 


“My dear Mrs. Arundel, — To assist the afflicted and to re- 
lieve the unfortunate, as well by the influence of the rank and 
station which have been graciously intrusted to me, as by the judi- 
cious employment of such pecuniary'superfluity as the munifictnce 
of my poor dear late husband has placed me in a position to dis- 
burse, has always been my motto through life. The many cads of 
the numerous dependents on the liberality of the late lamented Sir 
Pinchbeck, with constant applications from the relatives of his poor 
dear predecessor (the Girkins are a very large family, and some of 
the younger branches have turned out shocking pickles), reduce the 
cliaritabJe fund at my disposal to a smaller sum than, from the noble 
character of my last lamented husband’s will, may geuerallly be 
suppused. 1 am, therefore, all the more happy to be able to inform 
you that, owing to the too high estimation in which my kind neigh- 
bors in and about Comfortown hold any recommendation of mine, 
1 can, should you determine on settling near our pretty little town, 
promise you six pupils to begin with, and a prospect of many more, 
should youi method of imparting instruction in the ueiighiful 
science of music realize the very high expectations raised by my 
eulngium on your talents, vocal and instrumental. That such will 
be the case 1 can not doubt, from my recollection of the touching 
manner in which, when we visited your sw^eet little cottage on oui 
(alas! too happy) wedding trip you and your dear departed sung, at 
my request, that lovely thing, ‘ La ci darem la mauo.’ (What a fine 
voice Mr. Arundel bad!) 1 dare say, with such a good memory as 
yours, you will remember how the late Sir Pinchbeck observed that 
it pul him in mind of the proudest moment of His life, when at St. 
George’s, Hano\rer Square, his friend, the Very Reverend the Dean 
of Dinnerton, made him the happy husband of the relict of the late 
John Girkin. Ah I my dear madam, we widows have to sympathize 
with .misfortune; one does not survive two such men as the late Mr. 
Girkin, though he was somewhat peppery at times, and the late 
lamented Sir Pinchbeck Lombard, in spite of bis fidgety ways and 
chronic cough, without feeling that a vale of tears is not desirable 
for a permanency. If it would be any ccnvenience to you when 
you part with your cottage (1 am looking out for a tenant for it) to 
stay with me for a week or ten days, 1 shall be happy to receive 
3'on, and would ask a tew influential families to hear you sing some 
evening, which might prove useful to you. Of course, 1 can not 
expect you to part with your daughter, as she will so soon have to 
quit you (I mentioned her to my friend. Lady Babbycome, but she 
was provided with a governess), and wish j^ou to understand my in- 
vitation extends to her also. 

“ 1 am, dear madam, 

“ Ever your very sincere friend, 

“ Sarah Matilda Lombard.” 

“ P. S.— Would your son like to go to Korfolk Island for four- 
teen years? 1 think I know a way of sending him free of expen&e. 
The climate is said to produce a very beneficial effect on the English 
constitution; and with a salary of sixty pounds a year, and an intro- 
duction to the best society the Island affords, a young man in your 
son’s circumstances would scarcely be justified in refusing the post 
of junior secretary to the goveruou” 


14 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


Is tlie woman mad?” exclaimed Lewis impetuously, as be 
finished reading tbe foregoing letter, ” or what right has she to in- 
sult us in this manner?” 

“ Insult us, my dear!” replied Mrs. Arundel quickly, disregard- 
ing a deprecatory look trom Rose. ” Lady Louibard has answered 
my note infoiming her that 1 wished tor musical pupils, with equal 
kindness and promptitude. JMad, indeed! she is considered a very 
superior woman by many people, 1 can assure you, and her cener- 
osily and aood nature know no bounds.” 

Perish such generosity!” was Lewis’s angry rejoinder. ” It is 
not bitter enough to haye one’s enerLues cramped, one’s free-will 
fettered by the curse of poverty, but you must advertise our 
wretchedness to the world; and put it in the power of a woman 
whose pride ot purse and nairowness of mind stand forth in every 
line ot ihat haieiul letter to buy aright to insult us with her patron- 
age? You might at least have waited till you knew you had no 
other alternative left. VVhat right have you to degiade r}ie, by let- 
ting yourself down to sue for the charity of a7i^ onef’ 

” Dearest Lewis,” murmured Rose imploringly, ” remember it is 
mamma you are speaking to.” 

” Rose, 1 do remember it; but it is the thought that it is rny moth- 
er, my honored lather’s widow, who, by liei own imprudence, to use 
the mildest term, has brought this insult upon us, liiat maddens 
me.” 

” But, Lewis,” interposed Mrs. Arundel, “I can not understand 
what all this fuss is about; 1 see no insult; on the contrary. Lady 
Lombard writes as kindly — ” 

An exclamation of ungovernable anger burst from Lewis, and he 
appeared on the pomt of losing all self-control, when Rose, catch- 
ing his eye, glanced for a moment toward her father’s portrait 
Well (lid she read the generous though fiery nature ot him*t\itli 
W’hom she had to deal; no sooner did L(‘wis perceive the diicclion 
of her gaze than, by a strong effort, be checked all further expres- 
sion of his feelings, and, turning toward the window, stood appar- 
ently looking out for some minutes. At length he said abruptly, 
'‘Mother, you must forgive me; I am hot ana impetuous, and all 
this has taken me so completely % surprise. After all, it was only 
my affection for you and Rose which made me resent your patron- 
izing friend's impertinent benevolence; but the fact is, 1 hope and 
beli(3ve you have been premature in asking her assistance. 1 have 
little doubt 1 shall succeed in obtaining a situation or employ men! 
of some jJnd, which will be sufficiciiily lucrative to prevent the 
necessity of your either giving up the collage or being separated 
from Rose. 1 have written to Frere about it, and expect to hear 
from him in a day or two.” 

” My dear boy, would you have us live here in idleness and 
luxury, while you are working yourself to death to enable us to do 
so?” said Mrs. Arunilel, her affection tor her son overcoming any 
feeling of anger wuich his opposition to her pet scheme had ex- 
cited. 

‘‘ 1 do not see that the working need involve my death,” replied 
Lewis; ” perhaps,” he added, willi a smile, “ you would prefer my 
embracing our Lady Patroness’s scheme of a fourteen years’ sojourn 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


15 


Norfolk Island. 1 think I could accomplish that object without 
troubling anybody: i have only to propitiate the Hume Office by 
abstraOiiu>- a few silver spoons— and Government, in its fatherly 
care, would send me. there free of expense, and probably introduce 
me to the best society the Island affords into the bargain.” 

“Poor dear Lady Lombard! i must confess that part of her 
letter was rather absurd,” returned Mrs. Arundel: ” but we must 
talk more abuit this plan of yours, Lewis; 1 never can consent to 
it.” 

” You both can and will, my dear mother,” replied Lewis, play- 
fully but firmly; ‘‘ however, we will leave this matter in abeyance 
till 1 hear from Frere.” 

And thus, peace being restored, they sat down to breakfast forth- 
with; Lewis feeling thankful that he had restrained his anger ere it 
had led him to say words to his mother which he would have re- 
gretted deeply afterward, and amply repaid tor any effort it might 
have cost him by the bright smile and grateful pressure of the hand 
with which his sister rewarded him. Happy the man whose guardi- 
an angel assumes the form of such a sister and friend as Rose 
Arundel I 

Rachel was spared the trouble of calling her young master the fol- 
lowing morning, as, when that worthy woman, animated with the 
desperate courage of the leader of a forlorn hope, approached his 
room, determined to have him up in spite of any amount of the 
languages of modem Europe to which she might be exposed, she 
found the door open, and the bird flown, the fact being that Lewis 
and Faust were taking a scamper across the country, to their mutual 
delectation and the alarming increase of their respective appetites. 
Moreover, Faust, in his ignorance of the game laws and the zoblogy 
of the land of his adoption, would persist in looking tor a wolf in 
the preserves of Squire Tilbury, and while thus engaged could not 
resist the temptation of killing a hare, just by way ot keeping his 
jaws in practice; owing to which little escapade, he got his master 
into a row with an under-keeper, who required first knocking down, 
and then propitiating by a half-sovereign, before he could be 
brought to see the matter in a reasonable light. 

This gave a little interest and excitement to his morning ramble, 
and Lewis returned to breakfast in a high state of health and spirits. 
A letter from liis friend Frere awaited his arrival; it ran as follows- 

” Dear Lewis: — If you really mean what 3^011 say (and 3 ’’ou are 
not the man 1 take }*ou to be if you don’t). 1 know ot just the thing 
to suit you. The pay is above 3 mui mark, so that’s all right; and 
as to the work— well, it has its disagreeables, that’s not to be gain- 
said; but life is not exactlv a bed of roses- or, it it is, the thorns 
have got the start of the flo ' ers nine times out of ten, as you will 
know befoie long, if you have not found it out already. In these 
sort of matters (not that you know anything about the matter 3 ^* 1 , 
but 1 do, which is all the same’! it is half the battle to be first in the 
field ; — ergOy it £300 a yeai will suit your complaint, get on the top 
of the first coach that will bring you to town, and be with me iu 
time tor dinner. 1 have asked a man to meet 3 ^ou who knows all 
about the things 1 have in view for you. Pra}' remember me to 


16 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


Mrs. AniDdel and j^our sister, altbouc^b 1 have not as yet tbe pleas- 
ure of Ibeir personal acquaintance. DonH eel into tbe doletuls, and 
fancy yourself a victim; i1e])end upon it, you are nothing of the 
kind. Mutton on table at half past six, and Faust is specially in- 
vited to eat tbe bone. 

“ So good-bye till we meet. 

“ Yours tor ever ana a day, 

‘ ‘ Richakd F rere. ' ' 

“ There!” said i.ewis, banding tbe epistle to bis mother, ” now 
that’s something like a letter. Frere’s a thorough good fellow, 
every inch of him, and a real true friend into tbe bargain. I'H take 
whatever it is be has found for me, if it is even to black shoes all 
(lay; you and Rose shall remain here, and Lady Lombard may go 
to—” 

” Three hundred a year! Why, my dear Lewis, it’s quite a little 
fortune for you!” interrupted Mrs. Arundel delightedly. 

” 1 wonder what the situation can be,” said Rose, reirarding her 
brother with a look of allection and regret, as she thought how his 
proud spirit and sensitive nature unfitted him to contt-nd with the 
calculating policy and keen-eyed selfisliness of worldly men. Rose 
had of late been her father’s confidante, and even adviser, in some 
of his matters of business, and had observed the tone of civil in- 
difference or condescending familiarity which the denizens of Vanity 
Fair (as one of our cleverest contemporaries styles modern society) 
assume toward men of broken fortunes. 

‘‘ Yes,” resumed Mrs. AriindeJ, “ as you say, Rose, what can it 
be? something in one of the Government offices, perhaps. ” 

” Curator of Madame Tussaud’s Exhibition and Master of the 
Robes to the waxwork figures, more likely,” replied Lewis, laugh- 
ing. ‘‘ Or what say you to a civic appointment? Ma; e-bearer to 
the Lord Mayor, for instance: though 1 believe it requires a seven 
years’ apprenticeship to eating turtle soup and venison to entitle one 
to such an honor. Seriously, though, it Frere wishes me to take it, 
1 will, whatever it may be, after all his kindness to me, and Faust 
too. Faust, mein kind! here’s an invitation for you, and a mutton 
bone in prospect — hold up your head, my dog, you are come to 
honor.” And thus Lewis rattled on, partly because the ray of sun- 
shine that gleamed on his darkened fortum s had sufficed to raise his 
naturally buoyant spirits, and partly to prevent the possibility of 
his raothei ofteiing any effectual resistance to his wish— or, more 
properly speaking, his resolution— to devote himself lo the one ob- 
ject of supporting her and Rose in their present jmsition. 

It was well for the success of his scheme that Mrs, Arundel had, 
on the strength of the £300 per annum, allow^ed her imagination to 
depict some distinguished appointment (of svhat nature she had not 
the most distant notion) which, with innumerable prospective ad- 
vantages, was about to be submitted to her son’s consideration. 
Dazzled by this brilliant phantom, she allowed herself to bo per- 
suaded to write a civil nqection of Lady Lombard’s patronage; and 
took leave of her son with atr April face, in which, after a short 
struggle, the smiles had it all their own way. 

Rose neither laughed nor cried, but she clung lo her brother’s neck 


LEWIS AliUNDEL. 


17 


(standing on tiptoe to do it, for she was so good, every bit of ber, 
that I^ature coiild not aftord to make a very tall woman out of such 
precious materials) and whispered to him, in her sweet, silver}^ 
voice, if he should not quite like this appointment, or it he ever for 
a moment wished to change his plan, how very happy it would 
make her to be allowed to go out and earn money by teaching, just 
for a tew years, till they grew richer; and Lewis pressed her to hi& 
heart, and loved her so well for saying it, ay, and meaning it too, 
that he telt he would die rather than let her do il. And so two 
people who cared for each more than tor all the world besides, 
parted, having, after a three years’ separation, enjoyed each oiher’s 
society tor two days. Kot that there was anything remarkable in 
this— -it being a notorious though inexplicable tact, that the more 
we like a person the less we are certain to see ot him. 

Having wearied our brain in the vain indeavor to find a reason 
for this phenomenon, we should teel greatly indebted to any philo- 
sophical individual who would write a treatise on “ Ihe peivcrsity 
ot remote contingencies, and the aggravating nature of things in 
general,” whereby some light might be throwm upon this obscure 
subject. We recommend the matter more particularly to the notice 
ot the British Association ot Science. 

And having seated Lewis on the box ot a real good old-fashioned 
stage coach (alas! that, Dodo- ike, the genus should be all but ex- 
tinct, and nothing going nowada3^s but those w^ondertul, horrible, 
convenient, stupendous nuisances, railroads, rattling, with their 
“resonant steam-eagles,” as Mrs. Browning calls the locomotives) 
with Faust between his knees, apparently studying with the air of 
a connoisseur the “get up” of a spanking team of grays, we will 
leave him to prosecute his journey to London; reserving tor an- 
other chapter the adventures whicli befell him in the modern Baby- 
lon. 


CHAPTER HI. 

IN WHICH RICHARD FRERE MENDS THE BACK OF ST. THOMAS 
AQUINAS, AND THE READER IS INTRODUCED TO CHARLEY 
LEICESTER. 

lircHARD Frere lived in a moderate-sized house in a street in the 
vicinity Dt Bedford Square. 11 was not exactly a romantic situation, 
neither was it aristocratic or fashionable; but it was respectable 
and convenient, and therefore had Frere chosen it; for hn was a 
practical man in the proper sense ot the term — by which we do not 
mean that he thought James Watt greater than Shakespeare, but 
that he possessed that rare quality, good common sense, and regu- 
lated his conduct by it; and as in tlie course of this veraci(>us his- 
tory we shall hear and see a good deal ot Richard Frere, ii may tend 
to elucidate matters it we tell the reader at once who and what be 
was, and “ in point of fact,” as Cousin Pheenix would say. all 
aboiil him. 

Like Robinson Crusoe, Richard Frere was born of respectable 
parents. His father was the representative of a family who in ^^axon 
days would have been termed “ Franklins,” i.e., a superior class ot 
yeoman, possessed ot certain broad acres which tliey farmed them- 


18 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


selves. The grandfather Frere having, in a moment of ambition, 
sent his eldest son to Eton, was made aware of his error when the 
young hopeful on leaving school declared his intention of going to 
college, and utterly repudiated the plow-tail. Having a very decided 
will of his own, and a zealous supporter in his mother, to college he 
went, and thence to a special pleader, to read for the bar Being 
really clever, and determined to prove to his father the wisdom of 
the course he had adopted, sufBcienlly industrious also, he got into 
very tolerable practice. On one occasion, having been retained in 
a well-known contested peerage case, by his acuteness and elo- 
quence he gained his cause, and at the same time the aiiections of 
the successful disputant’s younger sister. His noble client very 
ungratefully opposed the match, but love and law' together proved 
too pow'erful for his lordship. One fine evening the young lady 
made a moonlight flitting cf it, and before twelve o’clock on the 
following morning had become Mrs. Frere. Within a year from this 
event, Richard Frere made his appearance at the cradle terminus of 
the railroad of life. When he was six years old, his father, after 
speaking for three hours in a cause in which he was leader, more 
eloquently than he had ever before done, broke a blood-vessel, and 
was carried home a dying man. His wife loved him as woman alone 
can love— for his sake she had given up friends, fortune, rank, and 
the pleasures and embellishments of life; for his sake she now gave 
up life itself. Grief does not always kill quickly, yet Rirhard’s 
ninth birthday was spent among strangers. At ten years old, his 
noble uncle, who felt that, by neglecting his sister on her death-bed, 
he had done his duty to his pedigree handsomely, and might now 
give way to family affection, sent the orphan to schofd at Westmin- 
ster, and even allowed him to run wild at Bellefield Park during 
the holidays. 

The agremens of a public school, acting on a sensitive dispo«!ition, 
gave a tone of bitterness to the boy’s mind, which would have 
rendered him a misanthrope but tor a strong necessity lor loving 
something (the only inheritance his poor mother had left him), 
which developed itself in attachment to unsymf^athizing silkworms 
and self-engrossed while mice during his early boyhood, and in a 
himrre but untiring benevolence in after-life, leading him to take 
endless trouble for the old and unattractive, and to devote himself, 
body iind soul, to forward the interests of those who were fortunate 
enough to possess his friendship. Of the latter class Lewis Arundel 
had been one, since the day when Frere, a stripling of seventeen, 
fought his rival, the cock of the school, for- having thrashed the 
new-comer in return for his accidental transgression of some sixth- 
form etiquette. Ten years had passed over their heads since that 
day; the cock of the school was a judge in Ceylon, w'eighed sixteen 
stone, and had a wife and six little cliildren; Richard Frere was sec- 
retary to a scientific institution, with a salary of £800 a year, and a 
general knowledge of everything of which other people were igno- 
rant; and little Lewis Arundel was standing six feet high, waiting 
to be let in at the door (*f his friend’s house, in the respectable and 
convenient street near Bedford Square, to which he and Faust had 
found their way, after a prosperous journey by the coach, ou the 
loot of which we left them at the end of the last chapter. 


LEWIS AllUNDEL. 


19 


A woman, iie^Iy enough to frighten a horse, and old rnougb for 
anything, rt-plied in the affirmative to Lewis’s inquiry whether her 
master was at home, and led the way upstairs, glancing suspicious- 
ly at h’aust as she did so. On reaching the fust landing, she tapped 
at the door; a full, rich, but sornev/hat gruff voice shouted “ Come 
in,” and Lewis, passing his ancient conductress, entered. 

“ What, Lewis, old boy! how are you? Don’t touch me. 1 can’t 
shake hands, I’rn all over paste; I have been mending the backs of 
two of the old Fathers that 1 picked up, dirt-clieap, at a book stall, 
as J was coming home to- day; one of them is a real ediiio— Wliy, 
man, how you are grown! Is that Faust? Come here, dog — what 
a beauty! Ah! you brute, keep your confounded nose out of the 
paste pot, ( 10 1 i must give Aquinas another dab yet. Sit dowm, 
man, if you can find a chair— bundle those books under the table — 
there we are.” 

The speaker, who, as the reader has probably conjectured, w^as 
none other than Mr. Ifichard Frere, presented, at that happy mo- 
ment, as singular an appearance as any gentleman not an Ojibbe- 
way Indian or other natural curiosity for public exhibition in the 
good city of Lon(3on need to do. His apparent age was somewhat 
under thirty. His lace w’ould have been singularly ugly but for 
three redeeming points — a higli, intellectual forehead; lull, restless 
blue eyes, beaming with intelligence, and a bright benevolent smile, 
which disclosed a brilliant set of white, even teeth, compensating for 
the dispropoitioned width of the mouth which contained them. His 
hair and whiskers, of a rich brovvn, hung in elt locks about his face 
and head, which were somewhat too targe t(»r Ids Iieight; his chest 
and shoulders were also dispiopoitionaiely broad, giving him an 
appearance of great strength, which indeed he possessed. He was 
attiied in a chintz diessiug-gown, that had once rejoiced in a pat- 
tern of gaudy colors, but was now reduced to a neutral tint of (w^o 
may as well confess it at once) London smoke. He was, moreover, 
for the greater convenience of the pasting operation, seated cross- 
legged on the floor, amidst a hecatomb of ponderous volumes. 

“ 1 received your letter this morning,” began Lewis, ” and. 5 'ou 
see, lost no tune in being with you; and now what is it yon have 
heard of, Freie? But first let me thank you—” 

“Thank me!” was the reply, “for what? 1 have done nothing 
yet, except writing a dozen lines to tell you to take a dusty journey, 
anci leave green trees and nightingales for smoke and bustle — netb- 
iiig ve»y kind in that, is there? Just look at the dog s ears— St. 
Augiisiine’s, 1 mean, not Faust’s.’ 

“ Don’t tease me, there’s a good fellow,” returned Lewis; “ I’m 
not in a humor for jesting at ])resent. 1 have gone through a good 
deal in one way or other since you and 1 last met, and am no longer 
the light-hearted boy you knew me, but a man, and w^ell-nigh a des- 
perate one.” 

“ Ay!” rejoined Frere, “ that’s the style of thing, is it? Yes; 1 
know all about it. 1 met Kirschberg the other day, with a beard 
like a cow’s tail, and he told me that Gretchen had bolted with the 
baron.” 

“ISlever mention her name, if you would not drive me mad,” 
exclaimed Lewis, spiinging from his chair, and pacing the room 


20 


LEWIS AKL.NM>EL. 


impatiently. His triend regarded him attentively for a moment, 
and then uncrossing his leas, and muttering to himselt that he had 
got the cramp, and should make a shocking bad Turk, rose, ap- 
proached Lewis, and, laying his hand on his shoulder, said gravely: 

“ Listen to me, Lewis; ^you trusted, and have been deceived, and, 
by a not unnatural revulsion of teebng, your faith in man’s honor 
and woman’s constancy is tor the time being destroyed; and just at 
the. very moment when you most require the assistance of your old 
friends, and the determination to gain new ones, you dislike and 
despise your fellow-creatures, and are at war in your heart wMth 
society. Now this must not be, and at the risk of paining you, 1 
am going to tell you tht* truth.*’ 

“ 1 know what, you would say,” interrupted Lewis vehemently ; 
‘‘ you would tell me that my affection was misplaced — tlxai 1 loved 
a girl beneath me in mind and station — that I trusted a man whom 
I deemed my friend, but who, with a specious exterior, w^as a cold- 
hearted, designing villain. It was so; 1 own it; 1 see it noio, when 
It is too late; but 1 did not see it at the time when the knowledge 
might have availed me. And why may not this happen again? 
There is but one wniy to prevent it; I will avoid the perfidious sex 
— except Rose, no woman snail ever—” 

” My dear hoy, don’t talk such rubbish,” interposed his friend; 
” there are plenty of right-minded, lovable w omen in the world, 1 
don’t doubt, though 1 can’t say I have much to do with them, see- 
ing that they are not usually addicted to practical science, and 
therefore don’t come in my way — liousehold angels, wdth their 
wings clipped, and their manners and their dresses modernized, but 
witli all the brightness and purity of heaven still lingering about 
them— that’s my notion of women as they should he, and as 1 be- 
lieve many are, despite your having been jilted by as arrant a little 
coquette as ever I had the luck to behold; and as to tlie baron, it 
would certainly be a satisfaction to kick him well; but we can’t 
obtain all we wish for in this life. What are you grinning at? — 
ymu don’t mean to say you have had it out with him?” 

In reply Lewis drew his left arm out of his coat, and rolling up 
his shirt-sleeve above the elbow, exposed to view a newlv healed 
wouud in the fieshy part of his arai; then said quietly: ” We fought 
with^small swords in a ring formed by the students; we were twenty 
minutes at it; he marked me as you see; at length 1 succeeded in 
disarming him — in the struggle he fell, and placing my foot upon 
his neck, and my sword point to his heart, 1 forced him to confess 
his treachery, and beg his hateful life of me before tliem all.” 

Frere’s face grew dark. “ Dueling!” he said; ‘‘ 1 thought your 
principles would have preserved you from that vice— 1 thought — ” 

A growl from Faust, whose quick ear had detected a footstep on 
the stairs, interrupted him, and in another moment a voice ex- 
claimed, ” Ilillo, Frere, where are you, man?” and the speaker, 
without waiting tor an answer, opened the door, and entered. 

The new-comer was a fashionably dressed young man, with a 
certain air about bim as it he were somebody, and knew il — he was 
good-looking, had dark hair, most desirable curling whiskers; and, 
ihougli he was in a morning costume, was evidently ” got up ” re- 
gardless of expense. 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


21 


He opened his large eyes, and stared with a look: of languid won- 
der at Lewis; then, turning to Frere, he said, “ Ah! 1 did not know 
you were engaged, Kichaid, or 1 v^ould have allowed your oUi lady 
to announce nae in due form; as it was, I thought, in my philan- 
thropy, to save her a journey upstairs was a good deed, tor she is 
getting a little touched in the wind. May 1 ask,” he continued, 
glancing at Lewis's bare arm, ” were you literally, and not figura- 
tively, bleeding your friend?” 

” Not exactly,” replied Fiere, laughing. “ But you must know 
each other; this is my particular friend, Lewis Arundel, whom I 
was telling you of; — Lewis, my cousin, Charles Leicester, Lord 
Ashford’s youngest son.” 

” Worse luck,” replied the gentleman thus introduced; ” younger 
sons being one of those unaccountable mistakes of Nature which 
it requires an immense amount of faith to acquiesce in with proper 
ortiiodoxy; the popular definition of a younger son’s portion, ‘A 
good set of teeth, and nothing to eat,’ shows the absurdity of the 
thing Where do you find any other animal in such a situation? 
Where— But perhaps we have scarcely time to do the subject 
proper justice at present; 1 have some taint recollection of your 
having asked me to dine at half past six, on the strength of vvhich 1 
cut short my canter in the park, and lost a chance of inspecting a 
prize widow, whom Sullivan had marked down for me I” 

” Why, you don’t mean to say it is as late as that!” exclaimed 
Frere; ‘‘ Thomas Aquinas has taken longer to splice than 1 was 
aware of; to be sure, his back was dreadfully shattered. Kxcuse 
me half a minute;— I’ll just wash the paste of! my hands, make 
myself decent, and be with you in no time.” As he spoke, he left 
the room. 

” VUliat a life for a reasonable man to lead I” observed Leicester, 
flinging himself back in Frere’s reading chair. ” Now that fellow 
was as happy with his paste-pot as 1 should be it some benevolent 
individual iu the Fairy Tale and Good Genius line were to pay my 
debts and marry me to an heiress with £10,000 a year. An inordi- 
nate affection tor books will be that man’s destruction. You have 
known him some years, 1 think, Mr. Arundel?” 

Lewis replied in the affirmative, and Leicester continued: 

” Don’t you perceive that he is greatly altered? He stoops like an 
old man, sir; his eyes are getting weak — it’s anevcm chance whether 
he is shaved or not; he looks upon brushes as superfluities, and 
eschews bears’ grease entirely, not to mention a very decided objec- 
tion to the operations ot the hair-cutter;— then the clothes he wears 
— where he contrives to get such things I can’t conceive, unless they 
came out of Monmouth Street, and then they would be better cut; 
but tiie worst of it is, he has no proper feeling about it — perfectly 
callous!” He sighed, and then resumed. ” It was last Saturday, 1 
think — ’pon my word you will scarcely believe it, but it’s true, 1 
assure you; 1 bad given my horse to the groom, and was lounging 
by the Serpentine, with Egerton of the Guards, and Harry Vain, 
who is about the best-dressed man in London, a little after five 
o’clock, and the park as full as it could hold, when, whom should 1 
see, striding along like a postman among the swells, but Master 
Richard Frere! And how do you suppose he was dressed? We’ll 


LEWIS ARUJSM^EL. 


o > 


bcgiu at (l\e top, and take him downward; Imprimis, a shocking 
bad hat, set on llie lop of his head after the lashiou of the he peas- 
ants in a pastoral chorus at the Opera Hou«?e; a seedy i)hrck coat, 
wiili immense flaps, and a large octavo edition ot St. Senanus, or 
some i)f them, sticking out of the pocket; a white choker villain- 
ously tied, which looked as it he had slept in it the night before; a 
most awful waistcoat, black-and-white plaid trowsers, guiltless ot 
straps, worsted stockings, and a clumsy species of shooting-shoes; 
and, because all this was not enough, he had a large umbrella, 
although tlie day was lovely, and a basket in his hand, with a neck 
of a black bottle peeping out of it, containing port wine, which it 
seems he was conveying to a superannuated nurse ot his, who 
hangs out at Kensington. 1 turned my head away, hoping that as 
he was staring intently at something in the winter, he might not 
recognize me; but it wois of no use; iiist as Egertou — who ilid not 
know him— exclaimevl, ‘ Here’s a natural curiosilvl Did you ever 
see such a treat in your life?* he looked up and saw me. In another 
minute his great paw was laid upon m)’’ shoulder, and 1 w’as accost- 
ed thus: — ‘Ah. Leicester! you here? Just look at that duck with 
the gray bill; that’s a very rare bird indeed; it comes from Central 
Asia. 1 did not know they had a specimen in tliis country; it is 
one ot the teal famil }^ — Qiierquedula Glocitans, the bunaculaled teal — 
so called from two bright spots near the eye;— look, you can see them 
now — very rare bird — very rare bird indeed!’ And so he ran on, 
fill suildenly recolleciing that he was in a hurry, he shook my hand 
till my arm ached (dropping the umbrella on my toes as l:e did so) 
and posted off, leaving me to explain to my companions how it was 
possible such an apparition should have been seen in any place ex- 
cept Bedlam. Richard Frere’s a right good fellow% ana 1 have an 
immense respect tor him, but he is a very tiying relative to meet in 
Hyde Park during the London season.” 

Having delivered himself of this sentiment, the Honorable Charles, 
or, as was more common)}^ denominated by his intimates, Charley 
Leicester, leaned back in his chair, apparently overcome by the 
recollection his tale had excited, in which position he remained, 
cherishing his whiskers, till their host re-appeared. 

The dinner w’as exactly such a meal as one gentleman of moderate 
income should give to two others not particularly gourmands; that 
is, there was enough to eat and drink, and everything was excel- 
lent ot its kind; one ot those mysterious individuals who exist only 
in large cities and fairy-tales having ])rovided the entire affair, and 
wailed at table like a duke’s butler into the bai’gain. Wiieii the 
meal was concluded, and the good genius had vanished, after plac- 
ing on the table a most inviting magnum of claret, and said 
” Yessir ” for the last lime, Prere'turned to Lewis, and observed, 
” By the way, Arundel, 1 dare say you are anxious to hear about 
this appointment, or situation, or whatever the correct term may be 
— the tning 1 mentioned to you; my Cousin Charles can tell you all 
there is to hear concerning the matter, tor I he good folks are his 
friends, and not mine; indeed 1 scarcely know them.” 

Thus appealed to, Charles I^eicesier filled a bumper of claret, 
sealed himself in an easy attitude, exarnirred his well-turned leg and 
unexceptionable boot, with a full appreciation ot their respective 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 23 

merits, and then, sipping his wine, and addressing Lewis, began as 
follows. 

But let us devote a fresh chapt( r to the honorable gentleman's 
able speech, as our brethren of the press would term it. 


CHAPTER IV. 

LEWIS ENLISTS UNDER A '‘CONQUERING HERO,” AND STARTS ON 
A DANGEROUS EXPEDITION. 

“ Well, Mr. Arundel,” began Leicester, “this is the true state 
€f the case, as far as 1 know about it. You may, perhaps, be ac- 
quainted with the name of General Giant?” 

Lewis replied in tiie negative, and Leicester continued — 

“ Ahl yes, 1 forgot, you have been on the Continent for some 

time; however, the general is member for A , and a man very 

WTcIl known about town. ISow, he happens to be a sort of cousin 
of mine— mother. Lady Ashford, was a Grant; and for that rea- 
son, or some other, the general has taken a liking to me, and gen- 
erously affords me his countenance and pr9ttclioUo So, when I 
have nolliing better to do, 1 go and vegetate at Broadhuist. an old 
rambling place in Be<lfordshire, that has been in his family since 
the hood— splendid shooting, though; he preserves strictly, and 
transports a colony of poachers every year. 1 was sitting with him 
the Ollier day, when he suddenly began asking about Freie, where 
be vvas, what he was doing, and all the rest of it. So 1 related that 
he was secretary to a learned society, and was popularly supposed 
to know more than all the samiits in Europe and the Dean of Dust- 
andstir put together. Whereupon he began muttering, ‘ Unfortu- 
nate I— he was just the person— learned man — good family — w ell con- 
nected — most unlucky I’ ‘ What's the master, general?* said 1. 
*A very annoying affair, Charles— a very great responsibility has 
devolved upon me, a matter of extreme moment— clean £12,000 a 
year, and a long minority.' ‘ Has £12,000 a year devolved upon 
you, sir?* returned 1. * 1 wish Dame Fortune would try me with 

some such responsibility.' In reply he gave me the following ac- 
count; 

“It appeared that one of his most intimate friends and neighbors, 
an old baronet, had lately departed this life; I he title and estates de- 
scend to a grandson, a minor, and General Grant had been appointed 
guardian. All this was had enough, but the worst was yet to come 
— he had promised his dying friend that the boy should reside in his 
house; — now it seems that, as a sort of set-off against his luck in 
coming into the world with a gold spoon in his mouth, the said boy 
was born with even less brains than usually fall to the lot of Fort- 
une’s favorites— in plain English, he is half an idiot. Accordingly, 
the general’s hrst care w^as lo provide Ihe young bear with a leader, 
and in his own mind he had fixed on Frererwhom he knew by 
reputation, as the man, and w^as grievously disappointed when he 
found he was bespoke. 1 suggested that although he could not 
undertake tlie duty himself, he might possibl}^ know some one who 
could, and offered to ascertain. The general jumped at the idea — 
Mno illm laclirymai—\itViQ,Q the whole business.” 


24 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


“Just as 1 rcceiv'ed your letter,” began Frere, “ Leicester came 
in to make the inquiiy. In tact, the thing titled like the advertise- 
ments in the ‘ Times ’ — ‘ Wants a situation as serious footman in a 
pious tamily, wages not so much an object as moral cultivation.’ 

' Wanted in a pious tamily a decided! y serious footman, wages 
moderate, but the spiritual advantages unexceptionable.’ ‘It X. 
B. is not utterly perfidiovis, and lost to all the noblest feelings of 
)ui inanity, he will forward a small iuclosure to C, D. at Mrs. 
Bantam’s, Oilman, Tothill Street.’ ‘ A. B. is desirous ot communi- 
cating with 0. D. ; if forgiven he will never do so no more, at any 
price.' You may see lots of them in the alvertising sheet; they are 
like angry women, sure to answer one another, it you leave them 
alone. And now, what do you think of iLe notion, Lewis?” 

“Why, there are one or two points to be considered,” replied 
Lewis. “ In the first place, what would be the duties of the situa- 
tion? In the second, am 1 fitted to perform them? In the third — 
But, however, 1 have named the most important.” 

“ As to the duties,” replied Leicester, “ 1 should fancy they w^ould 
be anything but overpowering— rather in the nothing-to-do-and-a- 
. man-to-heip-you style than otherwise. All the general said was, 

‘ Mind, 1 must have a gentleman, a person who is accustomed to the 
rank of life in which he will have to move— he must be a young 
man, or be will not readily tall into my habits and wishes. As he 
is to live in my tamily, he must be altogether presentable. His chief 
duty will be to endeavor to develop my ward’s mind, and fit him 
for the position which his rank and fortune render it incumbent on 
him to occupy.’ To which speech, delivered in a very stately man* 
ner, 1 merely said, ‘Yes, exactly;’ a style ot remark to wdiich no 
exception could reasonably be taken, unless oii the score of want of 
originality.” 

“ Is the general in towm, Charley?” asked Frere. 

“ Yes; he is waiting about this ver}^ business,” was the reply. 

“ Well, then, the best thing will be for you to take Arundel there 
to-morrow morning and bring them face to face; that is the way to 
do business, depend upon it,” 

“ Will that not be giving Mr. Leicester a great deal of trouble?” 
suggested Lewis. 

“ IMot at all, my dear sir,” replied Leicester good-naturedly. “ I’ll 
call for you at twelve o’clock, and drive you up to Park Crescent in 
my cab. Having once taken the matter in hand, 1 am anxious to 
bring it to a satisfactoiy conclusion — besides, a man must lunch, 
and the general’s pale ale is by no means to be despised.” 

At this moment the servant entered, and handing Frere a card, 
informed him the gentleman wished to speak with him. 

“ Tell him to walk in. Stiy that 1 have one or two friends tak- 
ing wine with me, and that 1 hope he will join us. Now, Lewis, I 
will introduce you to an oiiginal— -you know him, Leicester— Mar- 
maduke Grandeville.” 

“ Be Granville, my dear fellow — don’t forget the Be, unless you 
intend him to call you out. What, is ‘ the duke ’ coming? Y"es, 1 cer- 
tainly do know him, rather — just a very little.” Then, speaking 
in an affected yet pompous lone, he continued—” Ar— really — yes 


LEWIS AJiL'NiJEL. 25 

— the.Dii Grandevilles-— very old Yorkshiie family in the West Rid- 
ing— earne in willi the Conqueror.” 

” That’s exactly like him,” exclaimed Frere, laughing. “ Hush! 
here he is.” 

As lie spoke, the door opeoe.i slowly, and a head with a hat on 
first appeared, then followed a pair of broad shoulders, and lastly 
the whole man entered bodily. Drawing himself up with a stiff 
military air, he closed the door, and sliahtly raising his hat, shaded 
his eves with it, while he reconnoitered the company. 

” There, come along in, man; you know Charles Leicester — this is 
an old Westminster friend of mine, Lewis Arundel; now here’s a 
clean glass; take some claret.” 

The individual thus addressed made the slightest possible ac- 
knowledgement on being introduced to Lewis, favored Leicester with 
a military salute, laid a large, heavy hand, adorned with a ring of 
strange and antique fashion, patronizingly on Frere’s shoulder, 
poured himself out a glass of wine, and then, wheeling round ma- 
jestically to the fire and placing his glass on the chimney-piece, 
faced the company with an air equally dignified and mysterious, 
thereby aftoitling Lewis a good opportunity of examining his ap- 
pearance. He was above the middle height, and powerfully made, 
so much so as to give his clothes, which were fashionably cut, the 
air of being a size too small for him. He wore his coat buttoned 
tightly across his chest, which he carried well forward after the 
manner of a cuirassier; indeed, his whole gait and bearing were in- 
tensely military. His age might be two- or three-and-twenty; he had 
dark hair and whiskers, good though rather coarse features, and a 
more ruddy complexion than usually falls to the lot of a Lon- 
doner. After sipping his wine leisurely, he folded his arms with an 
air of importance, and fixing his eyes significantly on the person ad- 
dressed, said, ‘‘ Ar— Leicester, how is it Lord Ashford happens to 
be out of town just now?” 

” ’Ron my word, 1 don’t know,” was the reply; ” my father is 
not usually in the habit of explaining his movements, particularly 
to such an unimportant individual as myself. 1 have a vague idea 
Bellefield wrote to beg him to come down for something— he’s at 
the Park, at all events.” 

” Ar— yes, you must not be surprised if you see him in Belgrave 
Square to-morrow; tee want him; he’s been— ar — written to to- 
night.” 

” flow the deuce do you know that?” inquired Frere; ” 1 never 
can make out where you contrive to pick up tnose things.” 

” Who are wef inquired Lewis in an undertone, of Leicester, 
near whom he was seated. ” Does Jilr. Grandeville belong to the 
Government?” 

” iNot really, only in imagination,” was the reply. ” We means 
himself and the other Whig magnates of the land in this instance.” 

” Then you did not really know Graves was dead?” continued 
Grandeville. 

‘‘ 1 am not quite ceilaiu that i even knew he was alive,” replied 
Leicester. ” Who was he?” 

\ significant smile, sajing plainly, ” Don’t fancy 1 am going to 
believe 3 'ou as ignorant as you pretend,” floated across Graudeville’s 


2 G 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


face ere he continued, “ You need not be so cautious Avith me, 1 
can assure 3^011; the moment i heard Graves was given over, 1 
wrote— ar— that is, I cave tbe hint to a man who wiote to Lord 
Bellefield to say the county was his; he had only to declare himself, 
and he would walk over tlie course.” 

” Extremelj: kind of you, I'm sure,” replied Leicester; then turn- 
ing to Lewis, while Grandeville was raaiiing some mysterious ccin-^ 
municalion to Frere, he added in an unitertnue, ‘‘ That’s a lie from 
beginning to end. 1 had a note from BellefieUl (he’s my frere aiiie, 
5’ou know) this morning, in which he says, ‘ Our county member 
has been dangerously ill, but is now better;’ and he adds, ‘ Some of 
the tooh about here* wanted me to put up tor the county if he 
popped off, but 1 am not going to thrust my neck into the collar to 
please any of them. ’ Bell’s too lazy by halt tor an M.P., and small 
blame to him either.” 

” 1 am very soirr,” observed Frere to Grandeville, ” but I’m 
engaged to my ti lends, you see.” 

“ Balte id; don’t let us prevent your doing anything— at least, 1 
speak lor myselt,” said Leicestei. 

“Ann would never dream of standing on ceremony with me,^ 
Frere, 1 hope,” rejouied Lewis. 

“ Wiiy should we not all go together?” inquired Frere; “ the 
more the merrier, particularly if it should come to a shindy.” 

“ W lull’s the nature of the entertainment?” asked Leicester. 

” Tell them, De Grandeville,” said Frere, looking hard at his 
cousin as he slightly emphasized the De. 

“ Ar— well, you won’t let it go further, I’m sure, but there’s a 
meeting to be held to-night at a kind ot Mechanics’ Institute, a 
place 1 and one or two other influential men have had our eyes on 
for some time past, where they promulgate very unsound opinions; 
and we have been only wailing our opportunity to give the thing a 
check, and show them that tlm landed gentry are united in their de- 
termination not to tolerate sedition, or in tact anything ot the sort; 
and 1 have had a hint trom a very sure quarter (I walked straight 
trnm Downing Street here) that to-night (hey are to muster in force, 
a regular show off; so a party of us are going to be present, and 
watch the proceedings, and it there should be seditious language 
used, vve sha'l make a decided demonstration, let them feel the 
power the}’ aie arraying themselves against, and the utter madness 
of provoking such an unequal struggle.” 

” Then we have a very fair chance ot a row, 1 should hope,” in- 
terposed Lewis eagerly, his eyes sparkling with excitement; ” ’twill 
put us in mind of old sixth- term days, eh, Frere?” 

” Leicester, what say you? do you mind dirt5dng your kid gloves 
in the good cause?” asked Frere. 

** There is no time to put on an old coat, 1 suppose?” w'as the 
reply. ” A broken head 1 don’t mind occasionally, it gives one a 
new sens iiion; but to sacrifice good c’olhes verges too closely on the 
wantonly extravagant to suit eiilier my pocket or my principles.” 

‘‘ 1 will lend you one of mine,” returned F'rore. 

“Heaven fortend!” was llie hoirifled rejoinder, “1 have too 
much regard for the feelings of my family, iet alone tho^e of my 
tailor, to dream of such a thing tor a minute. Onl}^ suppose an}’- 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


27 


thing were to happen to me, iust see how it would read in llie 
papers: ‘ The body of the un ton unate deceased was enveloped in a 
threadbare garment of mysterious fashion; in the enormous pockets 
which undermined its voluminous skirts was discovered, among 
other curiosities, the leg bone ot a fossil Iguanodon/ ” 

“Gently therel’' cried Prere; “how some people are given to 
exaggeration! Because 1 happened accidentally one day to pull out 
two ot tiie vertebrae of — 

“Ah— it you'll allow me to interrupt you,” began Grandeville, 
“ 1 don’t think you need apprehend any display ot physical force; 
our object is, if possible, to prodiice a moral effect — in fact, by 
weight of character and position to impress them with a deep sense 
of the power and resources of the upper classes.” 

“ Still a good lickiug is a very ertectnal argument where other 
means of persuasion fail. I have gieat faith in fists,” said Prere. 

“ Ar— in the event of our being obliged lo have recourse to such 
extreme measures, I must impress upon you the necessity of disci- 
pline,” returned Grandeville. “ Look to mo for orders, ar— 1 am 
not exactly— ar — regular profession— ar — military, though, when L 
was at Ihc head-quarters ot the — ih in Ii eland last year, they diil 
me the honor lo sa}’’ that 1 had naturally'’ a very unusual strategic 
turn— a good officer spoiled — ha! lial” 

“ 1 always thought you had a sort of Life-Gtiardsrnan-like look 
about you,” said Leicester, with a sly glance at the others; “you 
often hear ot a man bring one of ‘ iSature’s gentlemen;’ now 1 
should call you one ot ‘ Nature's guardsmen.’ ” 

“ Ar — yes, not so bad that,” i’eturned Grandeville, the possibility 
of Leicester’s meaning to laugh at him faintly occurring lo him, and 
being instantly rejected as utterly inconceivable. “ Ilere, sir,” he 
<3onlinued, turning abruptly to Lewis, “ feel my arm; there’s mus- 
cle tor yon! 1 don’t say it by way ot a boast, but there is not such 
an arm as that in her Majesty'-’s — tli; there was not one of I heir 
crack men that could bold up so heavy a weight as 1 could, for 1 
tried the thing when 1 was over at Tiillandruni last autumn, and 
beat them all.” 

“ At what time does your entertainment commence, may I ask?” 
inquired Leice ter. 

“ Ar — 1 promised to join the others at a quarter before nine; iho 
meeting was to commence at nine, and we shall have some little way 
to w’alk. ” 

“ Then the sooner we are of!: the better,” said Prere; “ but you 
expect a re-enforcement, do y’oii?” 

“ Ar — some men, some of our set, you understand, very first-rate 
fellows who have the cause at heart, have agreed to come, and carry 
the matter through with a high hand. Paihire might produce very 
serious results, but the right measures have been taken; I dropped a 
hint at the Jlorse Guards.” 

“1 suppose 1 had belter not take Faust,” observed Lewis; “if 
there is a crow'd he wMll get his toes trodden on, and he is apt to 
show fight under those circumstances. May 1 leave him here?” 

“ A eSj certainly,” replied Prere; “that is. it you can persuade 
him to stay quietly, and bind him over to keep the peace till we 
return.’' 


28 


LEWJS ARL'NDEL. 


That is soon accomplished,” rejoined Lewis, and calling the dog 
to him, he dropped a glove on the floor, and uttered some German 
word of command, when the weli trained animal immediately lay 
down, with the glove between his huge paws. 

“ Caution your old lady not to interfere with the glove,” he con- 
tinued, “ or Faust will assuredly throttle her.” 

” What, is he touchy on that head?” inquired Grandeville, pois- 
ing himself on one leg, while he endeavored to kick the glove aw^ay 
with the other. A growl like that of an angry tiger, and the dis- 
play of a set of teeth of which a dentist or a crocodile might equally 
have been proud, induced him to draw back his foot with rather 
more celerity than was altogether in keeping with the usual dignity 
of his movements. 

” The dog has not such a bad notion of producing a moral im- 
pression,” said Leicester, laughing. ‘‘ Don't you think he might 
Ire useful to us to-night?” 

” Ar— now, there is nothing 1 should like belter than to take that 
glove away from him,” observed Grandeville, casting a withering 
glance on "Wust; ‘‘ ar — 1 wish 1 had time.” 

” 1 wish you had,” returned Lewis dryly. 

” Why, do you think ii would be so mighty difficult?” retorted 
Grandeville. 

” 1 had some trouble in choking him off Rudolph Arnheim, when 
he tried the experiment, befoi’t Faust had quite throttled him,” was 
the reply; ” Rudolph is no child, and had a neavy wager depend- 
ing on it.” 

‘‘ Ar — well, 1 can’t see any great difficulty in the thing, but it 
depends on a man’s nerve, of course. INow, are we reaay?” 

So saying, Marmaduke Grandeville, Esq., placed bis bat firmly' 
on his head, and with the gaii of a heavy dragoon and the ait of a 
conquering hero, marched nobly out of the apartment. Leicester 
signed to Lewis to follow, then drawing Frere on one side, he said: 

‘‘ Richard, 1 like your friend Arundel; he is a manly, intelligent 
young fellow, much too good to he bear-leader to a half-wu’tled cub 
like this precious ward of old Grant’s; and if 1 were rich as i am 
poor, 1 would do something better for him. Now, it he had but a 
lew hundreds to go on with, matrimony would be the dodge for 
him. With such a face and figure as his, he might secure no end 
of a prize in the wife market; there’s a thorough-bred look about 
him wdiich would tell with the women amazingl}^” 

” He has the making of a fine character in him,” replied Frere, 
” but he is proud and impetuous; and pride and poverty are ill 
companions, though they often go together.” 

” Do they?” replied Leicester; ” well, 1 am poor enough for any- 
thing, as a very large majority of the metropolitan tradesmen know' 
to their cost, but, upon my word, 1 am not proud. Any man may 
give me a good dinner, and I’ll eat it — good wine, and. 1 11 drink if: 
1 never refuse a stall at the opera, ihough the bone may belong to 
an opulent tallow'-chandler ; and thers is not a woman in England 
w'ilh £150,000 that 1 would not marry to-morrow, if she would have 
me. No! 1 ma)^ be poor, but yon can’t call me proud.” And plac- 
ing his arm through that of his cousin, they descended to the streefi 
together, and rejoined Lewis and his companion. 


LE\YIS AliUKDEL. 


29 


CHAPTER 7. 

WHICH IS OF A DECIDEDLY WARLIKE CHARACTER. 

The place ot rendezvous for the “ p^allanl defenders ot the British 
constitution/’ as Leicester had designated the liltle party, was a 
cigar shop in the immediate vicinity of the building in which the 
meeting was to be held. On their arrival, they perceived that the 
shop was already occupied by several young men who were loung- 
ing over the counter, bandying jests and compliments with a 
ringleted young lady, who appeared thoroughly self-possessed, and 
quite equal to the part she had to perform, having through all her 
pretty coquetries a shrewd eye to business, and reserving her most 
fascinating smiles for the most inveterate smokers. 

As Grandeville entered the shop, which he did with a most lordly 
and dignified air, he was welcomed with general acclamation. 

“ /..ll hail, Macbeth!” exclaimed a thin young man with a white 
great-coat, and a face to match, throwing himself into a tragic 
attitude. 

“ Most noble commander!” began another of the group; “ most 
illustrious De Grandeville! how is ~” 

” Your anxious mother?” interrupted a short muscular little fel- 
low, with as rich a brogue as ever claimed Cork tor its county. 

” Hush! be quiet, Pat; we have no time tor nonsense now, man,”' 
cried a tall youth, with a prcdusion of light curling hair, a promi- 
nent hooked nose, a merry smile, and a pair of wicked gray eyes,, 
which appeared to possess the faculty ot looking in every direction 
at once. “You are late, De Grandeville,” he added, coming for- 
ward. 

“ Ar — no, sir; five minutes good by the Horse Guards. Ar— I 
should have been here sooner, but 1 have been ar— recruiting, you 
see. Mr. Bracy, Mr. Frere, Mr Arundel- -you know Leicester?” 

“ Delighted to see such an addition to our forces,” replied Bracy. 
bowing; then shaking hands with Leicester, he ad(ied in an under- 
tone, “ Walk with me when we start; 1 have word to say to you.” 

Leicester nodded in assent; and then proceeded to accost others 
of the party with whom he was acquainted. 

“ Ar — now, gentlemen, will you please to attend to orders?” be- 
gan Grandeville. raising bis voice. 

“ Hear, hear!” cried the pale young man faintly. “ We’ll do it 
betther, if you’d be houldin' yer tongue, maybe,” interposed the 
hero from Cork, who, being interpreted, was none other than Lieu- 
tenant McDermott of the Artillery, believed by the Commandtr-in- 
Chief to be at that very moment on duly at Woolwich. 

“ Ar — you are to divide yourselves into three or four bodies.” 

“ Faith, we must get blind drunk, and see double twice over 
then, before we cau do that,” remarked the son of Erin argumenta- 
tively. 

“Now, Paddy, be quiet,” said Bracy soothingly; “you never 
got so far in your arithmetic as vulgar fractions, and you can’t be 
supposed to understand the matter.” 


30 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


A somewhat forcible rejoinder was drowoed by Urandeville. who 
coiilinued, in his most sonorous lone, “ Ar — you will Uilmi proceed 
to the hall of meeting’, and make your way quietly to the right side, 
as near theplaiform as possible. There— keep together, and nllract 
as little attention as you can, and Mr. Bracy will transmit such 
directions to you as circumstances may render advisable. L)o you 
cleaily understand?’' 

A general slmul of assent, varied by a muttered “ Not in the 
slightest degree ” from McDermott, was followed by the order, 
“Then, inarch!’’ and in another moment the party were 
The paleyoung man, who was in his secret soul rather alarmed than 
otheiwise, had attached himself firmly to Frere, with whom he was 
slightly acquaimed, and who he thought would take care of him, 
so Lewis was left to pair off with Leicester. 

As they proc(‘eded, the latter began, “ Depend upon it, there’s 
some trick in ail this, probably intended for Graudeville’s benefit; 
tilt fellow Bracy is one of the most inveterate practical jokers ex- 
tant, and he seems particularly busy to-night; he’s a clerk in the 
Home Office, and Grandeville believes in him to an iniineuse extent; 
blit here he comes. Well, Braev, what is it, man?’’ 

“ Is your friend safe?” inquired Bracy aside, glancing at Lewis, 
as be spoke. 

“ Ihie most cautious man in London,” was the reply; “ and one 
%vho appreciates oiir noble commander thoroughly ; so now allow us 
^ peep behind the scenes.” 

“ Well, tiie matter stands thus,” returned Bracy. “ 1 was walk- 
ing with Duke Grandeville one niglit, about tliree weeks ago, when 
we chanced to eiicounlei the gooil folks coming away from one of 
these meetings; they were nothing very formidable — a fair sanqile 
of young Newgale Street, youthful patriots from Show Hill, embryo 
republicans of Si. Paul’s Church-yard, Barbican, and other purlieus 
of Cockaignia, led by a few choice spirits, copying clerks, who hide 
their heroism from the light of day in lawyeis’ offices— book-sellers’ 
shopmen from the Row, who regaril themselves as distinguished 
literary characters and prate of the sovereigut}'’ of tlie press, and 
the like— well, of course, they discoursed most ferociously, and the 
duke, overhearing some of their conversation, was deiply scan- 
dalized, and fancied he iiad discovered a second Cato Street con- 
stni'acy. The thing appeared to promise fun, so I encoui’aged him 
in the idea, and we attended the next meeting, when they la ked 
the usual style of ladicai clap-trap. Everything was an abuse— the 
rich were tyiauls, the poor, slaves, and property required iransfei- 
ring {i. e., from its present possessor’s to themselves): they knew they 
never sIiouIlI he kings, so they cried down monarchy; but they 
trusted that, with strong lungs and good luck, they might become 
paid delegates, ihei’etore they clamored for a republic. There was 
lurtcli noise, but no talent: sanguinary tlieories wer’e discussed 
which ttrey had neither minds nor means to enable them to car ry 
out; in sliorl, the place is one of those innocent sedition shops which 
act as satety-val ves to oarr 3 M>tf popular (li>C()ntent and insure the 
heallli and vigor of the British constitution. Of course, however, 
the duke did not see it in that point of view; and trom that night 
forth he became positively rabid on the subject; so it entered the 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


31 


heads of some of us that we might improve the occasion by per- 
suading him that he might, tlirough me, communicate iaft^rmaiion 
to the Home Office (1 need scarcely tell you that it never reached the 
authorities there), and we have led him on sweetly and easily, till 
he positively believes that he is to be tliere to night as an accredited 
government agent, with lull powers to suppiess the meeting, and 
1 know not what else."' 

But surely you’ll get into a fearful row,” urged Leicester. 

“ We are sate for a bit of a shindy, no doubt,” was the cool re- 
ply; ‘‘ in fact, 1 do not consider that the ihing would go oft proper- 
ly without it, so 1 brought an Irishman to render it inevitable; but 
1 have bribed a door-keeper, and let the worst come to the worst,, 
we can easily fight our way out ” 

” To be sure we can,” exclaimed Lewis,” lick a hundred such 
fellows as you have described. This is glorious fun; 1 would not 
liave missed it for the world.” 

Bracy glanced at him for a moment with a look of intense ap- 
proval, then shaking him warmly by the hand, he said, ” Sir, Tm 
delighted to make your acquaintance: your sentiments do you 
honor, sir. Are you much accustomed to rows of this nature, may 
1 ask?” 

” 1 have been resident in Germany for the last three years,” was- 
the reply ; ” and, although they have a very fair notion of an emeute 
after llieir own fashion, they don’t understand the use of the fist 
as we do.” 

“ There are two grand rules for crowd-fighting,” returned Bracy; 
” First, make play with your elbows— cockneys’ libs are as sensitive 
as niggers’ shins; secondly, when it comes to blows, strike at their 
faces, and never waste your strength; but when you do make a bit, 
drop your man if possible; it settles him and frightens the rest. 
Here we are.” So saying, he turned into a kind of passage, which 
led to an open door, through which Uiey passed into the body of the 
hall. 

It was a large room, with a vaulted ceiling, and appeared capable 
of holding from five to six hundred persons. At the further emi of 
it was a platform, raised some feet, and divided from the rest of the 
hall by a stout wooden railing. The room w^as lighted with gas, 
and considerably more than half filled. Although the maiority of 
the audience appeared to answer the description Bracy had given of 
them, 3 "et along the sides of the npaitment were ranged numbers of 
sturdy artisans, and craftsmen, among whom many a stalwart form 
and stern determined visage might be detected. 

” There are some rather awkward customers here, at all events,” 
wdiispered Leicester; ” if we chance to get black eyes, Arundel, we 
must postpone our visit to the general to-morrow.” 

” The man that gives me a b’ack eye shall have something to re- 
member it by, at all events,’' returned Lewis quickly. 

” Hush! that fellow heard you,” said Leicester. 

IjcwIs glanced in the direction indicated, and met the sinister gaze 
of a tail iieavy built mechanic, in a rough great-coat, who frowned 
menacingly when he found that he was observed. Lewis smiled 
carelessly in reply, and proceeded after Bracy up the room. When 
he had passed, the man, still keeoing his eye upon him, quitted ids 


32 


LE\VI;3 AKUKDEL. 


seaf, ana followed at some liUle distance. On reaching the upper 
end of the loom, they perceived Grandeville and two or three others, 
among whom was McDermott, on the platform, while Frere and 
the rest of their party had congregated on ana near a flight of five 
or six steps, leading to it from the body of the hall. 

“ Bravo, Grandeville!” observed Bracy, in an undertone, to 
Leicester; “do you mark that! he has secured a retreat— good 
generalship, very; 1 shall have to believe in him, if he goes on as 
well as he has commenced. Hark! they are beginning to give 
tongue. ” 

As he concluded, a little fat man came forward, and said a good 
deal about the honor which had been done him in being allowed 
the privilege of opening the evening’s proceedings, to which he ap- 
pended a long and utterly incomprehensible account of the objects 
of the meeting. His zeal was evident, but Natuie had never in- 
tended him for an orator, and the chances of life had fitted him 
with a short husky cough, so that nobody was very sorry when he 
ceded the rostrum to his “ esteemed friend, if he might be allowed 
to say so (which he was), Jabez Broadcom.” This Jabez Broad- 
corn was evidently a great gun, and his coining forward created no 
smidl sensation. He was a tall, gaunt-looking man, with straight 
weak hair and an unhealthy complexion; but his great feature, in 
every sense of the w^ord, was his month. It was a mouth, not only 
for mutton, but for every other purpose to which that useful aper- 
ture could be applied; at present it was to be devoted to the task ot 
conveying its owner’s mighty thoughts, in appropriate language, to 
the eager listeners who surrounded him. 

This gentleman then, having, by dint of drawing in his lips and 
thrusting them out again, and rolling his eyes so fearfully as to 
suggest a sudden attack of English cholera, got up his steam to the 
required height, proceeded to inform the assembly that they were, 
individually and collect! vel}’’, free and enlightened citizens of die 
great metropolis of Europe, prepared to recognize their sacreil rights, 
and resolved to go forth as one man to assert and maintain them. 

Having imparted this information (through his nose, for the 
greater effect), he began to ask himself a species of Finuock’s Cate- 
chism, so to speak, wliich ran 'omewhat after the following fashion; 

“ And why am 1 here to-night? Because I love profit? No. 
Because 1 love personal distinction? No. Because 1 love my 
country? Yes. Bt cause 1 would not see her children slaves? Yes. 
Because purse-proud oppressors, reveling in their wealth, trample 
on the honest poor man? Yea.” 

Having said by heart several pages of this, in which be was ex- 
ceedingly well up, and which he rattled oft most fiuently, he con- 
tinued: 

“But such tyranny shall not always be tolerated. British free- 
men, whose proud boast it is iliat they have never borne a foreign 
yoke, shall no longer crnuch beneath a despotic rule at home. The 
atrocious barbarities of a brutal poor-law, which taxes honest house- 
holders to furnish salaried ruffians with powder to drag the half-eaten 
crust from the tarnished jaw\s of helpless poverty — ” , 

(A slight sensation was here occasioned by McDermott mentioning 
for the benefit of the meeting in general and the orator himself in 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


33 


particular, his conviction that tlie last sentence was “ very pretty 
indeed,*' together with a polite inquiry as to wdiether he could not 
be so kind a? to say it again. Peace being restored after sundry 
shouts of “ Turn him out!" “ Shame!" etc., the orator resumed); 

‘‘ Let them build tlieir Bastiles, let tlieui tear the wife from her 
husband, the mother from her child; let them crowd their prison- 
houses with the honest sons of labor whom their brutality has forced 
into crime— the poor man need never dread starvation while the 
bulks, hunger and the gallows gapes for him — but a day of retribu- 
tion is at hand; let the tyiants tremble beneath their gilded roofs— 
those unjust usurpers of the soil— the poor man’s bitterest toes, the 
landed gentry, as they arrogantly style themselves, must be cut oft 
and rooU'd put." 

® " Pretty strong, that!" observed Bracy in a whisper. 

" Ar— this won’t do, you know!" returned Grandeville, in an 
equally low voice; " I must really— ar— interfere." 

" Better hear him out, " rejoined Bracy, " and then get up and 
address them yourself." 

To w’bich suggestion, after a slight remonstrance, the former 
agreed; but such a shining light as Mr. Jabez Broadcom was not 
to be put out as quickly as they desired; be was the great card of 
the evening, and knew it, and prolonged his speech tor"a good three- 
quarters of an hour, dining w’hich time he hypothetically dethroned 
the queen, abolished the Lords and Commons, seated a National 
Convention In St. Stephen’s, and made all the poor both rich and 
happv, wdiile he practically rendered himselt so hoarse as to be 
nearly inaudible; tor which gallant exertions in the cause of liberty 
he received the tumultuous applause or the meeting, together with 
Lieutenant McDermott’s expressed conviction that he was "a broth 
of a boy entirely," together with an anxious inquiry “ whether liis 
mother had many more like him." 

‘When Broadcom retired from the rostrum there appeared some 
misunderstanding and confusion as to bis successor; taking advan- 
tage of which Gandeville looked at Brocy, who nodded, auo added, 
" Now’s your time— go in, and win;’’ then, catching a cailaverous- 
looking individual who was about to advance by the shoulders, and 
twisting him round, exclaimed, ‘‘Now. my man, stand out of the 
way, will you? this gentleman is going to address the company:" 
he thrust Grandeville forward, and, patting him encouragingly on 
the back, left him to bis own devices. That heroic gentlemau, brav- 
ing bowed to his audience with much grace and dignity, waved 
his hand to command attention, and began as follows: 

" Ar— Listen to me, my friends! Ar — hem— 1 am prepared to 
admit — that is, it is impossible to deny — that many great and serious 
evils exist in the complicated social fabric of this glorious country — 
the vast increase of population — " 

" Owing to the introduction of chloroform," suggested Bracy. 

'* Though slightly checked by — " 

" The alarming consumption of Morrison’s pills," interposed the 
Irishman — 

" The wise facilities afforded for emigration!" continued Grande- 
ville, not heeding these interruolions — " is one chief cause of the 
poverty and distress which, though greatly exaggerated by the false 


34 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


statements of evil-disposed and designing persons (groans and cries 
of “ Hear!”) are to be tound even in this metropolis, beneath the 
fostering care of an enlightened and paternal government— (increas- 
ing murmurs of dissatisfaction) — but it you believe that these evils 
are to be redressed by such measures as have been pointed out 

to you this evening, or that anarchy and rebellion can lead to any 
other result than misery and ruin— ar— 1 tell you that you are fear- 
fully mistaken ! Ar — as a man possessed of — ar — no inconsiderable 
influence and ar- -intimately connected with those powers against 
which you are madly arraying yourselves, 1 warn you!” 

Here the excitement and dissatisfaction, which had been rapidly 
increasing, reached a pitch which threatened to render the speaker 
inaudible; and amid cries of ” Who is he?” — ” an informer!” — 
“government spy!” — “turn him out!” — “throw him over!” — 
several peisons rose from their seats, and attempted to force their 
way to the platform, but were kept back by Lewis and others of 
Grandevi lie’s party w^ho, as has been already mentioned, had taken 
possession of the flight of steps which afforded the only legitimate 
means of access from the body of the ball. 

Undisturbed by these hostile demonstrations, Grandeville con- 
tinued, at the lop of his voice, “ 1 warn you that you are provoking 
an unequal struggle—thal you are bringing upon yourselves a fear- 
ful retnbuiion. Even now 1 am armed with authority to disperse 
this meeting — to — ” 

What more he would have added the reader is not fated to learn, 
for at this moment the man in the rough great-coat, who had fol- 
lowed Lewds from the entrance of the room, exclaiming, “ Come on, 
we aie not jroing to stand this, you know; never mind the steps,’' 
seized the railing of the platform, and drawing himself up, sprung 
over, followed by several others. In an instant all was confusion. 
Grandeville, taken in some degree by surprise, atter knocking down 
a couple of bis assailants, was overpowered; and amid cries of 
“Throw him over,” hurried to the edge or the platform; here, 
grasping the rail with both bands, be struggled violently to prevent 
the accomplishment of their purpose. 

“ Come along, boys! we must rescue him,” exclaimed Bracy; 
and, suiting the action to the word, he bounded forward, and, hit- 
ting light and left, reached the scene of conflict. Lewis and the 
others, abandoning the steps, followed his example, and the row 
became general. For some minutes the uproar was terr fic, blows 
were given and received; b’ood began to flow from sundry noses; 
and certain eyes that had begun the evening blue, brown, or gray, 
as the case might be, assumed a hue dark as Erebus. As for Lewis, 
he knocked down one ot the fellows who had hold of Grandeville; 
then he picked up the Irishman, who had singled out and attacked 
the biggest man in the crowd, none other indeed than the rough- 
coated patriot, who appeared a sort ot leader among them, and been 
immediately felled by him to the ground; then he assisted Frere in 
extricating the pale-faced youth from three iudividiuls of question- 
able honesty, who were availing themselves of the confusion to 
empty his pockets, and then he felt himselt seized with a grasp of 
iron and turning his head, found he was collared by (he rough- 
coated giant. A violent but ineffectual effort to free himself only 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


35 


served to convince him that in point ot strenfftb he was no match 
for his antagonist, who, regarding him with a smile ot graiified 
malice, exclaimed, “Now, then, young feller. I’ve been a waiting 
to get hold ot you, and i^^e nabbed j^ou at last! How about a 
black eye now?” As he spoke, he drew him tor ward with one 
hand, and struck at him savagely with the other. Avoiding the blow 
by stooping suddenly, Lewis closed with his adversary, and insert- 
ing Ids knuckles within the folds of his neckcloth, tightened it, 
until ill self- defense, and in order to avoid strangulation, the tellow 
was forced to loosen his irrasp of Lewis’s collar. The instant he 
felt himself free, Lcwm's, giving the neckcloth a final twist, and at 
the same time pressing his knuckles into the man’s throat so as for 
the moment almost to throttle him, stepped back a couple of paces, 
and, springing forward again, before the other had lime to recaver 
himself, hit up under his guard, and succeeded in planting a sting- 
ing and welbdirected blow exactly between his eyes; this, followed 
by a similar application rather lower on the fuce, settled the matter; 
reeling backward, his antagonist lost his footing, and fell heavily t:) 
the ground, dragging one of his companions down with him, in a 
futile attempt to save himself. The fall of their leader threw a 
damp :)n the spirits of the others, and although those in the rear 
were still clamorous with threats and vociferations, the members of 
the crowd in more immediate proximity to the little party shewed 
small inclination to renew the attack, 

“ Now’s our time tor getting away,” said Bracy; ” make a bold 
push for the door.” 

‘‘ Ar— I should say,” rejoined Grandeville, one of whose eyes 
was completely closed from the effects of a blow, and whose coat 
was hanging about him in ribbons, “ let us dispatch one of our 
party tor the police and military, and stand firm and maintain our 
ground till they come up, then capture the ringleaders, nnd clear 
the room,” 

“ Nonsense,” said Leicester, who, despite his regard for his ward- 
robe, bad behaved most spiritedly during the skirmish, ” we shall 
all be murdered before they appear: besides,” he added aside to 
Bracy, “ it will be making much too serious a business of it; wo 
sliall get into some tremendous scrape.” 

“Yes, that’s true.” said Bracy; then turning to Grandeville, he 
added, “ 1 don’t think my instructions would bear us out if we 
were to go any further; remember, we were only to make a demon- 
stration.” 

“And failh, if breaking heads, and getting a return in Kind, 
comes under that same denomination, it’s a pretty decent one we’ve 
made already, ’pon me conscience,” put in McDermott, wiping 
away the blood that was still trickling from a cut in his foreheail. 

While these remarks were bandied from one to another, the party 
had contrived to make their way from the platform, and were now 
in the body of the room, striving to push through the crowd, toward 
the side door; this at every step became more and more difficult, 
till at length (hey were so completely hemmed in that further pro- 
gression became impossible, and it was evident that a fresh attack 
upon them was meditated. Fortunately, however, they were not 
far from the point of egress, and Bracy, having caught the eye of 


36 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


bis ally the doorkeeper, who was on the alert, exclaimed, “ Now, 
Grandeville, we must fight our way through these fellows, and gain 
tiie door; there's nothing for it but a spirited charge; ^^ou and 1, 
Frere and his friend, and Paddy had better go first as a sort of 
wedge ” 

“ Ar — head the column, and break the enemy’s ranks, ar — yes, 
are you all ready?— Charge! ’ 

As he gave the word, they rushed forward in a compact body, 
and knocking down, and pushing aside all who opposed them, suc- 
ceeded in reaching the door; here a short delay occurred while 
Bracy and his friend were opening it, and several of their late 
antagonists, irritated at the prospect of their escape, incited the 
others to attack them, so that before their rizress was secured, even 
the Irish lieutenant had had fighting enough to satisly him, and the 
pale3M)ung man, having long smce given himself up as a lost mut- 
ton, actually fainted with fear and overexertion, and was dragged 
from under the feet of the comhatanis, and carried out by Frere and 
Lewis, but tor whom his mortal career would then and there have 
ended. 

How, as they emerged into the street, a part.y of the police ar- 
rived, and caused more confusion and more broken heads, and 
how Grandeville and the Irishman on the one hand, and sundry 
Chartists, with Lewis’s late antagonist among them, on the other, 
were jointly and severally taken into custod}^ and niurched to the 
station-house, where they spent the night, and how Leicester con- 
trived just in the nick of time to catch an intelligent cab, into which 
he, Lewis, Frere, and the fainting victim with the pallid physiog 
Domy composed themselves, and were conveyed rapidly from the 
scene of action, it boots not to relate. Suffice it to say that a cerlain 
dish of oysters, flanked by a detachmeni of pint bottles of stout, 
which had taken up their position on Frere’s dining table during 
the absence of iU master, sustained an attack about half-past eleven 
o’clock that night, which proved that ihe mode in which the assail- 
ants had passed the evening had in no way impaiied their respective 
appetites. 


CHAPTER VI. 

IN WHICH LEWIS ARUNDEL SKETCHES A COW, AND THE AUTHOR 
DRAWS A YOUNG LADY. 

It was about noon on the clay following Ihe events narrated in 
the last chapter; Frere had departed to his office at the scientific 
institution some two hours since, and Lewis anti Faust were looking 
out of the window, when a well-appointed cab dashed round the 
corner of a cross street, and a pair of lavender-colored kid gloves 
drew up a splendid bay horse, who arched his proud neck and 
champed the hit, impatient of delay, till a male child in livery coat 
and top bools rolled off the back of the vehicle, and stationed itself 
before tUe aniiuid’s nose, which act of self-devoti<>n appeared to 
mesmerize him into tranquillitj", and afforded Ihe occupant of the 
cab time to spring out and knock at Fn re’s door. Five minutes 
more saw Leicester and Lewis seated side by side, and driving 
rapidly in the diiection of Park Crescent. 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


37 


“1 don^t know bow you feel this morning;, A^rundeb” began 
Leicester, “ but positively when 1 first woke 1 could scarcely move; 
I'm black and blue all over, I believe/' 

“ 1 mu>t confess to being rather stiff,” was the reply, ” and my 
left hand is unproducible. 1 cut my knuckles a^^ainst the nose of 
that tall fellow when I knocked him down, and shall be forced to 
wear a glove till it iitals.” 

“ You did that uncommonly well,” returned Leicester, ” the man 
was as strong as Hercules, and vicious into the bargain; he evidently 
had heard what you said about a black eye, and meant mischief. 
1 was coming to help you when you tinished him off.” 

“ It would" have been most provoking to have been disfigured just 
at this lime,” rejoined Lewis; ‘‘ one could not very well go to nro- 
pose one’s self as a mentor for youth with a black eye obtained in 
something nearly akfu to a street rovv,” 

”Ko,” said Leicester, “the general would consider our last 
night’s exploit as dreadfully mfra dig.; he is quite one of tlie old 
school, and reckons 3ir Charles Grandison a model for gentlemen; 
you must be careful to avoid the free and- easy style of the present 
day with him, hut 1 think you’ll suit, him exactly"; there’s naturally 
somelliing of the preux chevalier, heros, de roman ewi about you, 
that wiil go down with him amazingly.” 

‘‘ In plain English, 3 "ou consider me stifi; and affected,” returned 
Lewis; ” do not scruple to tell me if it is so.” 

“Stiff, yes; affected, no,” vras the rejoinder: “indeed, your 
manner i'* unusually simple and natural when 3^11 thaw a little, but 
at first you are — well, i hardly know how to describe it, but there 
is something about 3^11 unlike the men one usually meets. You 
have a sort of half-defiant way of looking at people, a sort of ‘ you’d 
belter not insult me, sir’ expression. 1 don’t know that 1 should 
have observed it toward myself, but it was 3 ^our manner to Grande- 
ville that particularly struck me. 1 have not anno 3 ^ed you by my 
frankness?” he added interroLmtivel 3 % finding that Lewis did liot 
reply. Regardless of his question, Lewis remained silent for a 
minute or two; then, suddenl 3 '' turning to his companion, and speak- 
ing in a low, Jiurried voice, he said: 

“ Can you conceive no reason for such a manner? is there not 
enough in my position to account tor that? a 3 ^ and more. By birth 
1 am any inan’s equal: my lather was of an old family, a colonel in 
the Austrian service, and in the highest sense of the word a gentle- 
mun. 1 have received a gentleman’s education: up to the present 
time 1 have associated with gentlemen on terms of equalitir, and 
now suddeiil}", through no fault of my own, 1 am in effect a beg- 
gar. The very errand we are upon proves it. Through the kind- 
ness of Frere and ol yourself— a stranger — 1 am about to receive a 
favorable recommendation to some proud old man as a hired serv- 
ant; for though in name it may not be so, in factl shall he naught 
but a hireling! Is it strange then that I view men with suspicion? 
that 1 am watchful lest they attempt to refuse me the amount of 
courtesy due tf» those who, having never forfeited their own self- 
respect, are entitled to the respect of others?” 

He paused, and removing his hat, allowed the cold breeze to blow 
freely around his heated brow. Leicester, who, despite his foppery, 


38 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


was thoroughly kincl-hearted, being equally surprised and distressed 
at the burst of feeling his words had called forth, hastened to reply. 

“ My dear fellow, I really am — that is, ’pou mv word, 1 harl no 
idea that you looked upon the affair in this light; I can assure you, 
1 think you quite mistake the matter; a tutorship is considered a 
very gentlemanly occupation. If 1 had any work in me, Vm not 
at all sure 1 might not — that is, it w ould be"a very sensible thing of 
me to look out for something of the Rind myself. Stanhope Jones, 
wdio w’as up at Trinity with me, and about the fastest man of his 
year, ran through his fortune, got a tulorship'iu Lord Puzzlet^te’s 
"family, went abroad with the eldest cub, and picked up a prize 
widow at Pisa, with tin enough to set the leaning tower straight 
again, if she had a fancy to do so.” 

During this well-meant attempt at consolation, Lewis had time 
to come to the conclusi(»n that he was in the position of the unwise 
individual wdio wore ” his heart upon his sleeve for daws to peck 
at;” or, in plain English, that he had been betrayed into a display 
of feeling before a man incapable of appreciating or understanding 
it; and a less agreeable conviction at which to arrive we scarcely 
know. Nothing, however, remained but to make the best of it, 
which he accordingly did, by admitting tlie possibility of there 
being much truth in Leicester’s view of the case, and changing the 
subject by saying, ‘‘ But now 1 want you to give me a peep at the 
carte du pays of the unknown region 1 am about to explore. 1 
ihink 1 preity well comprehend the general from your description. 
Of what other members does the family consist?” 

” Ar! yes, ofcouiseyou must be curious to know — well, the dia- 
mahs per^once is somewhat limited. First and foremost the general 
—you comprehend him, you say?” Lewis made a sign in the affirma- 
tive, and Lticester continued. ” Then we have an awful personage, 
who 1 expect will be a severe trial to you— Miss Livingstone; she is 
a relation, an aunt, 1 think, of the general’s late wife, who lives wilU 
him and keeps his bouse, and was the terror of my boyhood wdien- 
ever 1 was down at Broadhurst. She never was over young, 1 be- 
lieve; at least, 1 can’t imagine her anything but middle-aged, and 
she must now be sixty or thereabouts. For the rest, she looks as if 
she bad swallowed a poker, and by some mysterious process of as- 
similation become imbued with its distinguishing characteristics; 
tor she is very stiff, very cold, and as tar as ] know, utterly impene- 
trable, but ot a stirringdisposiiion withal, which leads her lo inler- 
fere with everybody and everything. Lastly, there is my Cousin 
Annie, the general’s only daughter (be has a sou also, who is with 
the army in India, and said to be a very rising officer); she inherits 
her mother's’ beauty, her father’s pride, her great-aunt’s determina- 
tion to have her own way, and the devil’s own love ot teasing. To 
set against all this, L believe her lo be thoroughly good and amiable, 
and everything of that kind; at all events, she is a most bewitching 
girl, and bids lair, under judicious management, to become a very 
charming woman. 1 fancy her mission is to reform my brother 
Bellefield and render him a steady married man, and 1 wish her joy 
of it. She comes into her mother’s tortiine when she is of age, and 
the respective governors have set their hearts upon tim match.” 

” And what says Lord Bellefield?” inquired Lewis, listlessly. 


LEWIS ARUKEEL. 


39 


“ Oh, Bell reckons she won’t be of age and that the match can’t 
come off these four years, by which lime he expects to be so hard 
up that he must marry somebody, anti as there will be plenty of the 
needhil, she will suit his book as well as any other.” 

” The 3 miing lady of course approves?” continued Lewis, un- 
tying a knot in the thong of Leicester's whip. 

‘‘ Catch a woman fel using a coronet,” returned Leicester, as he 
pulled up at a house in Park Crescent, so suddenly as almost to 
throw tlie hay on its haunches. 

” General Grant begs you will walk upstairs, Mr. Leicester; he is 
engaged at present, but desired rne to say he particularly wishes to 
see you,” was the reply made by a most aristocratic butler to Leices- 
ter’s inquiry whether his master was at home. 

” Keep the bay moving, Tim— now, Arundel, turn to the right — 
that’s it,” and suiting the action to the word he quitted the cab, and 
crossing a ‘‘ marble hall,” sprung up a wide staircase, followed by 
Lewis. 

” (Silence and solitude,” he continued, opening the door of a large 
drawing room handsomely furnished. ” 1 hope" they won’t be Jong 
before they introduce us to the luncheon-table; oj^sters are popu- 
larly supposed to give you an appetite, but the natives we demol- 
ished at Frere’s last night must have been sadly degenerate, for 1 
declare to you 1 could scarcely get through my breakfast this morn- 
ing. Ah! what have we here?— a water-color landscape in a semi- 
chaotic condition. Aunie has been sketching, as sure as fate; i’ll 
introduce a tew masterly touches and surprise her.” So sa 3 dng, he 
sealed himself at the table, and began dabbling with a brush. 

” B 3 " Jove, I’ve done it now!” he exclaimed in atone of con- 
sternation, after a minute’s pause. ‘‘Just look here; 1 thought I 
would insert the trunk of a tree in the loregroiind, and the con- 
founded brush has got red iu.it, so I’ve made a thing like a lobster, 
and spoiled the drawing.” 

” 1 thrnk, if you wish, 1 could turn it into a cow, and so get you 
out of a scrape,” suggested Lewis, smiling at his companion’s guilty 
count! nance. 

“My dear fellow, the very thing,” exclaimed Leicester, hastily 
rising and thrusting Lewis into his seat; “ let’s have a cow, by ail 
means. That’s famous,” he continued, as with a few graphic 
strokes Lewis converted the red daub into the semblance of an ani- 
mal. “ Bravo! make her an eye— now the hoins — what a fascinat- 
ing quadruped; where’s the tail to come?” 

“ You would not see the tail in the position in which the cow is 
supposed to be lying,” remonstrated Lewis. 

“ Still, it would make it more natural,” urged Leicester. “ As 
a personal favor, just to oblige me, stietch a point and give her a 
tail.’. 

“ There, then, I’ve twisted it under her leg,” said Lewis, making 
the desired addition; “ but depend upon it, there never was a cow’s 
tail so situated.” 

“ All the greater proof of your talent,” was the reply; “ the ideal 
is what you artists (for 1 see 3 mu are one) are always raving about, 
and Ibis is a specimen of it.” 

So engrossed had the two young men been with their occupation 


40 


LEWIS AKUXDEL. 


that they had not observed the entrance ot a third person. Tiie 
uew-coniei was that charming of all created beings, a very lovely 
girl of seventeen. 

As every poet since Homer has done his utmost to clothe in fit- 
ting language a description of the best specimen ot the class which 
it may have been nis hap to m€et with, and as no man in his senses 
would exchange half an hour of the society ot one of the originals 
for all the fauciful descriptions of women that ever were written, 
we would fain be excused from adding one more to the number, and 
were all our readers of what grammarians most ungallantly term 
“ tiie worthier gender,” we should cut the matter short by begging 
each man to imagine the damsel in question exactly like the “ un- 
expressive she ” who is, for the time being, queen of his soul. But 
as we flatter ourselves certain bright eyes will sparkle and coral lips 
smile over this ” o’er true tale,” and as we have already been asked 
by ‘‘ oceans ” ot young ladies, “ AVhat is the heroine to be like?” 
we wilt e’en make a virtue of necessity, and give a catalogue 
raisonn of her many perfections. 

Annie Grant, then (for we’ll have no disguise about the matter, 
but own at once that she it was who entered the drawing-room un- 
perceived, and lhat she it/s who is destined to play the heroine in 
this our drama of the JKailroad of Life — and be it observed, inter- 
parenlhetically, that we use the theatrical metaphor advisedly, for 
Shakespeare has told us lhat ” all the world’s a stage,” and it is a 
matter of common notoriety lhat in the present day all stages have 
become railroads). Annie Grant, then, we say, was rather above 
the middle height, though no one would have thought of pronounc- 
ing her tall; her gown ot moysseline—poil de — pshaw! what are we 
thinking of?— she had not a gown on at all; how should she when 
she was going to ride directly after luncheon? No, her habit, which 
fitted to perfection, was well calculated to set olf her slight but sin- 
gularly graceful figuie to the best advantage. Her hair, wliicli was 
braided in broad plaits for the greater convenience (seeing that ring- 
lets under a riding-hat are an anomaly, not to say an abomination), 
really auburn— by which definition we intend to guard against 
the pale red or warm saud-colored locks which usually pass current 
for the very rare but very beautiful tint we would particularize — 
and if a poet had speculated as to the probability of some wander- 
ing suubearr) being imprisoned in its golden meshes, the metaphor, 
though tancitul, would not have been unapt. Delicate regular 
features, large blue eyes, now dancing and sparkling with mis- 
chievous glee, now' flashing with pride, a mouth like au expressive 
rosebud, a clear skin, with the warm glow of health painting each 
velvet cheek, hut retreating from the snow'y forehead, combined to 
form a whole on which to gaze w'as to admire. 

This young lady, being such as W'e have described her, tripped 
lightly across the apartment, till she had stationed herself behind 
her Cousin Charles, aud perceivuig that both gentlemen were so pre- 
occupied as not to have obsciwed her approach, contrived by stand- 
ing on tiptoe, and peeping over Leicester’s shoulder, to witness the 
inir(Mlnction of the cow of whom we have already made honorable 
mention. 

During the animated discussion on the tail question, she nearly 


LEWIS ARUNLEL. 


41 


betrayed her presence by laughing outright; repressing the inclina- 
tion, however, she retraced her steps, and had nearly succeeded in 
reaching the side door by which she had entered when her habit, 
catching againel a table, caused the overthrow of a piece ot orna- 
mental china, and levealed her presence. 

On hearing the sound, Lewis, recalled to a sense of his situation, 
ana tor the first time struck by the idea that in touching the draw- 
ing he had been guilty ot an unwarrantable liberty, rose hastily from 
his seat, coloring crimson as he did so, from an agreeable mixture 
of shyness, mortification, and proud self-reproach. Leicester, on 
the other hand, with the aplomb and presence ot mind of a man of 
the world, turned leisurely, and whispering, “ Keep your own coun- 
sel, there’s no harm done,” he advanced toward his cousin, saying 
with a nonchalant air, ” You have stolen a march upon us, Annie. 
This gentleman and 1 called to see the general upon business, and as 
he seems resolved to afford us a practical lesson on the virtue ot 
patience, I ventured to while away the time by showing my triend 
some of your sketches. By tlie way, let me introduce you. My 
cousin. Miss Grant — Mr. Arundel.” Thus invoked, Lewis, who in 
order to atone to his woundefi self-respect had wrapped himself in 
his very coldest and haughtiest manner, and resembled a banished 
prince rather than an every-day Christian, advanced a few steps, 
and acknowledged the introduction by a most Grandisonian inclina- 
tion of the head. 

The lady performed her part of the ceremony with an easy court- 
esy, in which, art hough, perhaps, an equal degree of hauteur was 
infused, not the slightest effort was visible. 

“Mr. Arundel is doubtless a judge of painting, and my poor 
sketches are by no means calculated to bear severe criticism,” re- 
marked JMiss Giant, denmrely. 

As Lewis remained silent, Leicester hastened to reply; ‘‘ A judgel 
of course he is; he’s just returned from Germany, the happy land 
where smouing, singing, and painting all come by nature.” 

” Indeed!” returned Miss Grant; “ then, if it is not too trouble- 
some, perhaps 1 might ask Mr. ATundel’s advice as to a sketch of 
Broadhurst 1 was attempting before your arrival; 1 left off in de- 
spair. because 1 could not manage anything for the foreground.” 

‘‘ Try an elephant,” suggested Leicester; “ it would have a grand 
effect, besides possessing the advantage ot novelty, and filling up 
lots of space.” 

” Would you bring me the drawing, Charles?” returned his 
cousin; “ 1 know too well the style of assistance 1 may expect from 
you on such mailers. Who embellished my poor head of Minerva 
with a pair of mustaches?” 

” 1 did,” rejoined Leicester complacently, ” and 1 am proud of it; 
Minerva was the goddess of war, and sported mustaches iu virtue 
ot her profession.” 

” Are you never going to give me the drawing, Charles?” asked 
Annie, impatiently. ” Positively, cousins are woise than brothers; 
Heginald, poor fellow, was a great deal more attentive than you are. 
Mr. Arundel, might 1 trouble you to hand me that sketch?” 

Thus appealed to, Lewis had nothing for it but to comply, which 
he did accordingly, biting his lips with vexation at the denoiieimnt 


42 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


which nppeared now inevitable. But Leicester’s resources were not 
yet exhausted; stretching out his liand before his cousin had re- 
ceived the drawing, he coolly took possession of it, saving, “I 
know 3^011 meant this drawing as a little surprise for me; you have 
heard me say how much 1 coveted a sketch ot dear old Bioadhurst, 
and so you have kindly made one for me. You have really done it 
extremely well! Who was it — Fielding — you have been learning 
of? Positively, you have caught liis style?” 

” Don’t flatter \'ouiself that 1 did you the honor ot recollecting 
any such wish, even supposing you uttered it in niy bearing oC 
which I entertain grave doubts,” returned Annie; “ but if you par- 
ticularly desire it,"l will make you a present ot it when it is fin- 
ished — if 1 could only manage that tiresome foreground 1” 

‘‘ I like it better without,” was the reply; ‘‘ there is nothing to 
interfere wfitb the outline of the burldiuir, which stands forth in 
bold relief — and — chl--well, w^hat’s the matter?” 

During his speech his cousin had risen from her seat, and, ap- 
proaching him, caught sight ot the drawing, which she had no 
sooner done than, raising a little white hand, she pointed to the in 
trusive cow, and asked quiell 3 \ “ Adhere did that come tromV” 
The comic perplexity of Leicester’s face was irresistible to behold, 
as with a glance at Lewis to secure his sympathy and co-operation, 
iie was evidently about to adopt the cow at all hazards when the 
door opened, and a tall, stately old man, with a military port and 
erect hearing, entered; and surveying the group with evident sur- 
prise, drew iiimselt up still more stiflly, ere with sl(^ and measured 
steps he advanced toward them. 

It w'as General Grant. 


CHAPTER VII. 

WHEREIN THE READER IS INTRODUCED TO MISS LIVINGSTONE, AND 
TOLD WHO IS THE GREATEST MAN OF THE AGE. 

”Ah! general,” exclaimed Leicester, as he rose leisurely from 
the arm-chair iu which he had been reclining. ” 1 hope they have 
not disturbed you on our account. 1 was criticising one of Annie’s 
sketches le temps — really she draws very nicely — let me 

introduce Mr. Arundel, Mr. Frere’s friend, about wdiom 1 wTote to 
you yesterday.” 

A stiff bow, acknowledged on Lewis’s part by an equally haughty 
inclination of the head, w^as the result of this introduction; when 
General Grant observed, 

‘‘ Mr. Frere is a man of whom 1 have a very high opinion, both 
on account of his unusual intellectual attainments and his manly, 
upright character. Have ymu been long acquainted wdth him, sir, 
may 1 ask?” 

“ He was my guide and protector wdien I first w^eut to Westmin- 
ster,” replied Lewis, ” and we have been close triends ever since.” 

‘‘ A most fortunate circumstance,” remarked the general senten- 
liously. “The mind of youth is easily impressible for good or 
evil, and unless such eslablishineuls are greatly altered for the better 


LEWIS AliUxN DEL. 


43 


since my time, Satan has no lack of emissaries at a publir school. 
Will you allow me a few minutes’ private conversation with you, 
Mr. Arunflelr The library is in this directiou.” So saying. Gen- 
eral Grant opened the door with frigid courtesy, and signing to 
Lewis to precede him, followed wdth a stateliness of demeanor ad- 
mirable to behold. 

Scarcely had they left the room when Annie, clapping her hands 
joyfully, exclaimed, What a creature! why, he’s as stiff and 
dignified as papa himself. Now, then, Charles, tell me who be is, 
and all about him; we shall have Auut Martha or somebody com- 
ing, and then 1 shall never know, and be obliged to die ot curiosity, 
l^ou are asleep, 1 believe 

“ There you go— -that’s always the way with women,” returned 
Leicester, speaking very slowly, and with an exaggeration of his 
usual mode of pronunciation, which was something between a lisp 
and a drawl; ‘‘ asking half a dozen questions in a breath, and re- 
solved to get up a suicidal amount of curiosity if they are iif t as 
speedily answered. Why, my dear child, I would not speak as 
quickly as you do tor au}^ amount of money— at least any amount 
of money 1 should be likely to get for doiug so.” 

“Now, Charles, don’t be tiresome, ^yho is the man?” rejoined 
Annie, half pettishly. Theo, seeing that her imperious manner 
only induced her cousin still further to tease her, she added in an 
imploring tone, wdiicli no heart ot any material softer than granite 
could resist, “You will tell me— won’t you? 1 want to know so 
much, and I have had nothing to amuse me all day.” 

“ There, do you hear that?” soliloquized Leicester appealing to 
society iu general. “ Trust a w’oman to get her own way; if she 
can’t scold you into giving it to her, she’ll coax you. Well, you 
little tormeu\, 1 suppose you must know all about it. The man, as 
you please to call him, is seeking the honorable post of bear-leader 
to the cub your father has the felicity of b<ing guardian unto.’' 

“ What, a tutor for poor Walter!” rejoined Annie, meditatively; 
“ but. surely, he’s a gentleman, is he nut?” 

“Very particularly and decidedly so, as far as 1 am a judge,” 
returned Leicester, hooking a footstool towaid him with his cane, 
and depositing his feet thereupon; “ at least 1 dined and spent last 
evenino; in his company, aud never wish to meet a better fellow'.” 

“ But,” continued Annie, pursuing her train of thought, “ if he 
is a gentleman, why does he want to go out as a tutor?” 

“ Becauscr unfortuualely, there is a vulgar prejudice extant in this 
feeble-minded country that the necessaries of life, such as bread and 
cheese, cigars, kid gloves, and the like, must be paid tor; this re- 
quires money, whereof Arundel has little or none. Moreover, Rich- 
ard Frere hinted at a mother and sister in the case, who likewise 
have to be supported.” 

As he spoke, a shade of deeper thought flitted across Anuie’s ex- 
pressive features, tind after a moment’s pause, she resumed: 

“ Now 1 understand his strange manner; he was mentally con- 
trasting himself (he is evidently a proud man) and his position; it 
must indeed have been a struggle — and he does this for the sake of 
his mother and sister. Charles, do you know, 1 rather admire him.” 

“ Ves, 1 dare say you do; he’s a decidedly good lookiug fellow 


44 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


lor the style of mao; there’s a thorough bred air about him, and he 
carries himself well.” 

“ Pshaw ! I am not lalking of his appearance; except that he is tall 
and dark, I scarcely know what he is like,” reliirnca Annie quick- 
l 3 ^ “ Ko! 1 mean that there is something fine in the idea ot a 

Po;mJ mind submitting to decradations and indignities for the sake 
ot those it loves; beating with a martyr-spirit the thousand hourly 
annoyances-—” Checking herself suddenly, as she perceived upon 
her cousin’s face something nearly akin to a contetnptuous smile, 
Annie continued impatiently—” Charles, how s4:upid you are! 1 
hate you?” 

” Not possible,” was the cool reply. ” Moreover, you have reall}^ 
no cause to do so. 1 was not exactly laughing at your sudden 
plunge into the sentimental; it was merely a notion which crossed 
my mind, that out of the thousand hourly annoyances by which 
IK)or Arundel is to be martyrized, some nine hundred and fifty 
would oriainaie in the caprice of a certain young lady, who shall be 
nameless In the monotony ot life, amid the leafy shades of Broad- 
hurst, even teasing a tutor may be deemed a new and interesting 
variety, as the botanists have it. ISeriously, though, you can get the 
general to let him teach you German.” 

‘‘ And embellish ray water-color sketches by the insertion ot oc- 
casional cows, with impossible tails made to order — eh, Cousin 
Charley?” returned Annie. ” Give me my drawing, sir, and let 
• me look at the creature. How well he has done it! 1 know a cow 
at Broad hurst with jusi such a face!” 

” There’s a world of speculation in the eye,” rejoined Leicester, 
carelessly, though he was slightly surprised at the extent of her in- 
formation respecting the ” tail ” debate; ” the animal appears to be 
luminating on the advisability’’ of petitioning Parliamenl against the 
veal trade, or some other question of equal interest to the ‘ milky 
mothers of the herd,’ ” 

While Annie and her cousin thus gayly conversed, a very differ- 
ent scene was passing in the library. During a short delay occa- 
sioned by General Grant’s being obliged to answer a note, Lewis 
had time to recollect himself, and to school the rebellious feelings 
which bis conversation with Leicester and the other events of the 
morning bad called into action. He thought of Bose and bis mother, 
and his rieterrrdnation that they at least should be spared all knowl- 
edge of the real evils of poverty; and this reflection was for the lime 
siifilcient to efface every selfish consideration. Bringing his strength 
ot will into play, he gained the most complete self-control, and even 
experienced a sort ot morbid pleasure in the idea of voluntarily hu- 
miliating himselt before the proud old man, whose clear, colil eye 
w^as occasionally raised from the note he was emplo 3 "ed in writing, 
to fix i*s scrutinizing glance on Lewis’s features. 

Having sealed the missive and given it to a servant, he slowly ap- 
proached the spot where Lewis w^as standing, and after a word or 
two ot apology for having kept hint wailing, began. 

” 1 presume my nephew, Mr. Leicester, has made you in some 
degree acquainted with the nature of the circumstances in which 1 
am at present placed, and of the necessity w’hich renders me anx- 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 45 

ious to secure the services of some gentleman as tutor to my ward. 
Sir Walter Deshorough?’' 

“Mr. Leicester intormed me that the young gentlemarrs educa- 
tion liad been neglected, and that his mind was singularly undevel- 
oped/’ replied Lewis, choosing the least offensive terms in which 
he might express his connction that the youth in question was 
rather a fool than otherwise. 

“ Yes, sir, though it is even worse than you describe,” returned 
the general. “ In tact, it depends upon the degree of success which 
may attend the efforts which mu^t now be made whether Sir Walter 
Desborotigh can ever be considered capable of managing his own 
affairs or able to take that place in society to which his rank and 
Lutiiue wouid naturally entitle him. You perceive, therefore, that 
the post of tutor will be one ot much trust and importance, and the 
duties attending it must be onerous. Mr. Frere has written so high 
a characti r of your various attainments that 1 can not but feel pi r- 
fectly satisfied ot your competency: but. you are very young, and 
as I should, in the event ot your undertaUing the charge, expect a 
strict perf(»rmance ot your duties, it is only fair to inform you that 1 
conceive that they may be irksome in the extreme. \Vhaiisyour 
feeling on the subject?” 

Lewis pau<ie<i tor a moment in thought, and then replied: 

“ I will be frank with you, sir. Were 1 free to act as I chose,, 
such an office as you describe would be one of the last 1 should 
select; but the welfare ot others depends upon my exertions, and I 
have determined to refuse no occupation not unworthy a gentleman 
which will enable me to render the necessary asistauce to my family. 
If, therefore, you imagine me fitted to under take the charge of your 
ward, 1 am willing to do so, and to fulfill the duties of such a situ- 
ation to the best of my ability, on one condition.” 

“ What is tliat?” inquired General Grant quickly. 

‘‘ That i may be allowed to pursue whatever system 1 may deem 
best fitted to attain the desired end without the inlerterence of any 
one. and may be accountable for my conduct to you alone.” 

“ KiUher a singular request, young gentleman,” returned the gen- 
eral, knitting his brows. 

“ My reason for making it is easily explained, sir,” replied Lewis 
firmly, but respectfully. “ Unless such permission is accorded me, 
1 feel certain all my efforts would prove unavailing: 1 must have 
full power to do w^hai I think right, or 1 could not act at all, and 
should have undertaken a duty which 1 sliould be incompetent to 
perform.” 

“Well, sir, there is truth in what you say,” replied General 
Grant, after a moment’s consideration. “ 1 like you none the worse 
for speaking in a manly, straightforward manner. It is my inten- 
tion to go down to Broadhurst in a day or two; yon shall accompany 
me; and if, after seeing my ward, you are still willing to undertake 
the task of conducting his education, 1 shall be happy to intrust him 
to your care, upon the conditions you have proposed. Your salary 
"wiil be £300 a year; this, you are aware, is unusually high, but the 
case is a peculiar one, and money, forturiately, a very secondary con- 
sideration. An entire suite ot rooms will be devoted to the use of your- 


46 


LEWIS AllUXDEL. 


self and your pupil, and a horse kept for you, that you may accom- 
pany him in his rides. Do these ariangements meet your wishes?’^ 

Lewis bowed liis head in token ot acknowledgement, and said, 
“ 1 have one other request to make. 1 brought a Livonian wolf- 
hound with me from Germany — he is much attached to me, and 1 
should be unwilling to part from him.’^ 

“ Bring him with j^ou, sir,” returned the general, his lip slightly 
curling with a sarcastic smile; ” a dog more or less will make little 
difference in such an establishment as that at Broadhurst; and it 
you will give me the pleasure of your company at luncheon, 1 shall 
be happy to introduce you to my relative, Miss Livingstone, who 
does me" the honor tD superintend my hou-sehold. My daughter, 1 
believe, you have already seen;” and as he spoke he led the way to 
the dining-room, w’here the rest ot the parly were already assembled. 

Miss iiiviugstone, w’ho scrutinized Lewis as if she suspected him 
of belonging to that ingenious fraternity j^elpt the sw^ell mob, w’as, 
in appearance, a very awful old lady indeed. The nearest approach 
we can make to a description of her features is to say that they bore 
a marked (with the small-pox) resemblance to those of Minerva and 
her owl; the sternness ot that utilitarian goddess — the Miss Mar- 
tineau ot Olympus— and the sapient stupidity of the so-called bird 
ot wisdom finding their exact counterpart in Miss Livingstone’s 
time-honored physiognomy. This lady was appareled after a strange 
and imposing mode, as behooved a spinster of such orthodox station 
and ferociously virtuous propriety as the general female commander- 
in chic t. Minerva’s helmet was modernized into a stupendous 
fabric, wdiereiu starch, muslin, and ribbon of an unnatural harsh- 
ness struggled upward in a pyramid, whence pointing with stiffened 
ends innumerable, suggestive of any amount of porcupines, .they 
appeared ready and anxious to repel or impale society at large. A 
triangle of spotless lawn supplied the place of the breastplate be- 
neath which Jove’s daughter was accustomed to conceal her w^ant 
of heart; and a silk gown of an uncomfortable shade of gray, 
made so scanty as to render at first sight the hypothesis ot a mer- 
maid conceivable, completed the costume of this immaculate old 
lady. 

Having apparently satisfied herself that Lewis had no immediate 
design upon the spoons and forks, she condescended to afford him 
I lie meteorological information that, although the sunshine might 
delude the uuw^ary into believing it to be a tine day, she Had received 
private information that the wealher was not to be relied upon; 
after promulgating which opinion she placed herself al the head, 
and assumed the direction ot the luncheon-table. 

Charle 3 Mjeicester appeared to he the only individual of the party 
insensible to a certain freezing influence which might be specified as 
one of Miss Livingstone’s most characteristic attributes. Having 
exerted himself to supply that lady with every possible adjunct she 
could require, and seduced hei into an amount of Cayenne pepper 
which afterward subjected her to considerable physical suffering, he 
began: 

‘‘ 1 was present a day or two ago, Miss Livingstone, where a 
question was started as to what man i f modern limes had been the 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 47 

greatest benefactor to his race. It-openecl a mine of very curious 
speculation, 1 can assure you/’ 

“ 1 do not doubt it, Charles,” returned Miss Livingstone; ” and 1 
am glad to learn that the young men of the present day employ 
their time in such profitable discussions. What decision did you 
arrive at?” 

” Well, ma’am,” resumed Leicester gravely, “there was of course 
much diilerence of opinion. Janies Watts had rather a strong 
party in his favor, but an ex-railway director was present who had 
lost £10,000 on the Do-em-and-Foot-in-it-Line, and he blackballed 
him. Peel was proposed, but a protectionist came down on him 
with free-trade, which produced such a discussion that it was quite 
clear we should never arrive at a unanimous decision in his favor. 
One man who is known to be a little bit flighty, not quite ac- 
countable, poor fellow! declared for Lord lirougham, but we 
soothed him, and he had sense enough left to see his error almost 
immediately. At length it came to my turn — ” 

“ And whom did you mention?” inquired Miss Livingstone, with 
a degree of interest most unusual to her. 

“ I had been pondering the matter deeply,” continued Leicester, 
“ to try and hit on some worthy against whom no valid objection 
could be raised; at one moment 1 thought of Moses — ” 

** I fancied it was restricted to men of modern times,” interposed 
Miss Livingstone. 

“ He to whom 1 referred, ma’am,” returned Leicester, “ was not 
the Israelite lawgiver, but tliemanof the Cit 3 ’’Mart, that benevolent 
individual who clothes poverty in ‘ a light paletot ’ at ten and six, 
and enables the honest hearts of free-born Britons to palpitate be- 
neath a ‘ gent’s superior vest, tor the trifling remuneration of five 
shillings.’ ” 

This speech was algebra, or thereabouts, to the lady to whom it 
was addressed, but she had a sort of instinctive appreliension that 
Leicester was talking nonsense, and accordingly drew herself up 
stiffly, completing her resemblance to Minerva by composing her 
featuies into a very satisfactory likeness of the Gorgon. No way 
aftected by this transformation, Leicester continued: 

“ On mature reflection, however, 1 discarded Moses & Son, and 
was going to give it up as hopeless, when, all of a sudilen, a bright 
thought flashed across me, and, springing to my feet, I exclaimed, 
in a voice ot thunder, ‘ Gentlemen, 1 have ii; the difficulty is one no 
longer; the greatest modern benefactor to the race is— Bass!” 

“ Who?'' exclaimed Mrs. Livingstone, entirely mystified, and a 
good deal fliirriecl by the narrator’s unusual energy. 

“ Bass,” resumed Leicester; “ that remarkable man whose gigan- 
tic intellect first conceived the project of regeneiating ^ciet}^ 
through the medium of pale ale! The idea was bailed with enthu- 
siasm; we immediately sent for a dozen ; and, ere the liquor was dis- 
posed of, there was not a man piesent but would have staked hun- 
dreds on the soundness of my opinion.” 


48 


LEWIS ARU^IDEL. 


CHAPTER Yin. 

LEWIS RECEIVES A LECTURE AND A COLD BATH. 

Lewis, after a solitary walk, during which he was revolving ia 
his mind the step he had just taken, and striving to discern in the 
dull lead-colored horizon ot his future one ray of light which might 
yield promise of brighter times to come, was ascending P'rere’s stair- 
case, when the door of the room above opened suadenly, and a 
voice which he thought he recognized exclaimed: 

“ Then 1 may depend upon you; you’ll be with me by eight at 
the latest, and bring your friend, if possible. Ah! here he is! Mr. 
Arundel, delighted to see you — none the worse for last night, 1 hope 
— wasn’t it glorious? Graudeville has got such a face on him, he 
won’t be able to show tor a week to come; and Meeking of the pal- 
lid features is so seedy this morning that I was forced to bur den my 
conscience by inventing a fictiiious fall from his horse, on the 
strength ot which 1 sent his mamma to nurse him. We must book 
that to tlie pious fraud account, and let the charity absolve the lie. 
Rather shaky divinity, eh, Frere? Well, au remir ; I’m o0.” 

So saying, Mr. Tom Bracy — for he it was, and none other- 
dashed down the stairs, and having deeply scandalized Fiere’s an- 
cient domestic by an anxious inquiry how it was she did not get a 
husband, took his departure. 

“ Frerel” exclaimed Lewis, throwing himself inlo a chair, and 
coldly repulsing Faust, who never could imagine himself otherwise 
than welcome, “ I’ve done it I” 

“ So have 1, man,” was the reply; ” and pretty considerably 
brown, too, as that nice youth who has just lelt me would call it. 
But wlial have you done to make you so doleful?” 

” Sold myself,” returned Lewis bitterly. 

” Nut to the old gentleman, 1 hope,” rejoined Frere, ‘‘though 
your black looks would almost lead one to imagine so,” 

” What weak, inconsistent fools we arel” pursued Lewis. 

*‘ Speak foi yourself, young man,” observed Frere parenthetically, 

” Hosv vacillating ana impotent,” continued Lewis, not heeding 
the interruption, ‘‘is even the strongest willl 1 have done this 
morning the thing 1 believe 1 most anxtously desired to do— the 
thing 1 came here hoping to accomplish — 1 have secured a compe- 
tence for my mother and sifter. 1 have done so on better terms 
than 1 had deemed possible. 1 have met with consideration, if not 
kindness, from — from my employer.” He pronounced the word 
lirml}^ though his temples throbbed, and his lips quivered with 
suppressed emotion as he did so. ‘‘ All tliis should make me con- 
tented, if not happy. Happy!” he repeated mockingly. ” Frere,” 
he continued, with a sudden burst of impetuosity, ‘‘ it has not done 
so — I am miserable 1” 

He rose from his seat, and began pacing the room with impatient 
strides. Faust followed him for one or two turns, wagging his tail, 
and gazing up into his face with loving eyes; but finding ids efforts 


LEWIS ARUls^DEL. 


49 


to attract attention unavailing, he uttered a piteous whine, and, re- 
treating to a corner, crouched down, as perfectly aware that his 
master was unhappy as it he had been a human creature, and could 
have “ told his love '' in words. Frere would have spoken, but 
Lewis checked him by a gesture, and continued his rapid walk for 
some minutes in silence. At length he spoke: 

“ You think me selfish and ungrateful, and you are right; 1 am 
so. I have schooled myself to bear all Ih’s, and 1 xoill bear it; but 
bitter thotights arise, and at times overpower me — 1 am very 
young (“ True tor you,’* muttered Frere, sotto voce), “ and 1 
am so unfit for such a life as lies before me, a life of tame and 
ceaseless drudgery, in which to indulge the high aspirations and 
noble daring that win men honor becomes mieplacea folly— to live 
with people whose equal, if not superior, 1 feel myself, in a semi- 
menial capacity; to obey when 1 would command; to forfeit all that 
is bright and fair in existence— intercourse with the higher order of 
minds, the society of pure and refined spirits — and above all to lose 
the only thing 1 really prize on earth, my independence. Well,** 
he continued, af^er a pause, “ the die is cast, and repentance is worse 
than useless. 1 will give this experiment a fair trial; it may be lire 
harness will sit easier on me than 1 imagine; and should it become 
unbearable, 1 can but cast it oft and start afresh— there is such a 
thing as to compel one’s destiny.” 

” listen to me, Lewis,” observed Frere, “what you have 
just said is no doubt true enough — you are about as unfit in tastes 
and habits for the life that lies before you as a man well cau be, but 
for that reason it is exactly the very best thing for you. For what 
purpose do you suppose we are sent into this world? Most assured- 
ly not only to please ourselves, and, by following out our own de- 
sign and caprices, create a sphere for”^ the exercise and increase of 
our natural faults — no: the only true view of life is as a school, 
wherein our characters are to be disciplined, and all the changes, and 
chances, sorrows, trials, and temptations we meet with are the agents 
by which the education of the soul is carried on.” 

“ And a low, wretched view of life il is,” replied Lewis bitterly; 
“ a seventy years* pupilage under the rod of destiny. The heathen 
sage was tight who said that those whom the gods love die early. If 
it were not for Rose and my mother, I would join some regiment 
bound for India, volunteer into every forlorn hope, and trust that 
some Sikh bullet would rid me of the burden of life without my in- 
curring the guilt of suicide.** 

“In fact, you would die like an idiot, because you lack moral 
courage to face the evils of life like a man,” returned Frere: “ but 
wait a bit; your argument, such as it is, is founded on a fallacy, or 
on that more dangerous thing, a half-truth. Glranting that life was 
one scene of bitter experiences— which would be granting a very 
large lie— for what is this discipline intended to fit us? — that is the 
question. You are ambitious— how would you regard obstacles in 
your path to greatness? You would rejoice in them, would you 
not, as opportunities for bringing oui the high qualities 3 ’^ou fancy 
you possess; fortitude, courage, indomitable perseverance, ready 
wil, aptitude to lead and govern your fellow- men, and fitty other 
magnanimous attributes; and deem the greatness unworthy your 


50 


LEWIS AllUNDEL. 


notice that should be obtained without a struggle? But what is 
human greatness? A triumph for the hour, bringing its attendant 
cares and evils with it — mark that — a bauble, which some other 
ambitious genius may possibly wrest from your grasp, which old 
age would "iinfit you to retain, of which death must deprive you in 
a few years, more or less. jNow take the true, the Christian’s view 
of life — obstacles to overcome, demanding all our stiength of mind, 
and then proving too mighty tor us without the assistance of a 
Power superior to that of man, but which will be given us it we 
seek it properly. And the victory won, what is the prize we shall 
obtain? A position, accoiding to our advances in righteousness, 
among the spirits ot just men made perfect (with reverence be it 
spoken); wdth the source of all good. Omniscience our teacher, 
Omnipotence our only ruler. Perfect Justice our lawgiver, Perfect 
"Wisdom our director, the Powers ot Heaven tor our associates, and 
our own souls, freed from the trammels of mortality, fitted to ap- 
preciate and enjoy these inestimable blessings; and all this, not for 
time, but for eternity. Lewis, you are a reasonable being, and to 
your own reason i will leave the question.” 

There was silence for some minutes: at length Lewis, raising his 
head, revealing features on which the tracts of deep emotion were 
visible, and stretching out his hand to his friend, said in a voice 
which trembled from excess of feeling, ” God bless you, Frere; you 
are indeed a true friend!” He paused; then added suddenly, 

Frere, promise me one thing —promise me that wdiatever 1 may 
do, whatever rash act or evil deed my feelings may hurry me into, 
you will not give me up; that while we both live you will act by me 
as you have done to-day— that you will preserve me from mystlf, 
stand between me and my fiery nature; then shall 1 feel tliat 1 am 
not utterly deseited — you will be the link that shall still hind me to 
virtue.” 

” Well, if you fancy it will maKe you any happier, or better, or 
more reasonable, 1 will promise it,” returned Frere: ‘‘ more par 
ticularly as 1 should most probably do it whether I promise it oi 
not.” 

” You promise, then?” asked Lewis eagerly. 

” 1 do,” replied Frere. 

Lewis once more wrung his fiiend’s hand with such eagerness as 
to elicit a grimace ot pain from that excellent individual, and then 
continued: 

” A conversation of this nature regularly upsets me; 1 must go 
and walk off this excitement before i shall be fit for anything. 
Come, Faust, good dog! 1 spoke up for Faust to-day, Frere, and 
the general accorded a dignified assent:—-* A dog more or less will 
make little diflierence in such an establishment as Broadhuist.* ” 
Did he say that?” inquired Frere. 

” Word for word,” returned Lewis. 

” Well, 1 thought better things of him!—* What fools folks is!’ 
as my old lady down-stairs says. Are you off? Mind you are at 
home in good time for dinner, tor I have been seduced into accept- 
ing anoi her evening engagement for us.” 

‘‘Any more fighting?” asked Lewis anxiously. 

” No, thank goodness for that same,” leturued Frere. 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


51 


I wish 1 could meet that long Chartist,’' continued Lewis, shak- 
ing his fist; “ not that I bear him any ill-will, but it would be such 
a relief to me, just now, to knock somebody down. Mayn’t 1 set 
Faust at a policeman?” 

Not unless you prefer Brixton to Broadhurst, and the tread- 
mill to the tutorship,” returned Frere. 

“ Well, good-bye till dinner-time,” responded Lewis, leaving the 
room; ‘1 won’t punish youi carpet any longer: — Come, Faust!” 

“ That is a most singular yOung man,” soliloquized Frere, as he 
took down ami unrolled a Persian manuscript; ” very like an ex- 
citable steam-engine with an ill-regulated safety-valve in disposition; 
1 only hope he won’t blow up bodily w^hile 1 have the care of him. 
He is a fine fellow, too, and it’s impossible not to be very fond of 
him— -but he’s an awful responsibility for a quiet man to have thrust 
upon him.” 

Meanwhile Lewis, walking hurriedly up one street and down an- 
other, with the design of allaying the fever of his mind by bodily 
exercise, found himself at length in the neighborhoo(t of Hyde 
Park, and, tempted by the beauty of the afternoon, he continued his. 
stroll till he reached Kensington gardens. Here, stretching himself 
on one of the benches, he watched the groups of gayly dressed 
loungers, and listened to the military baud till he began to fear he 
might be late for Frere’s dinner; and retracing his steps, he pro- 
ceeded along the bank of the Serpentine toward Hyde Park corner. 
As he arrived nearly opposite the receiving-house of the Humane 
Society, his attention was attracted Iw the lamentations of u small 
child, whom all the endearments of a sympathizing nursery-maid 
were pow( rless to console. The child being a fine stuidy boy, and 
the maid remarkably pretty, Lewis w'as moved by a sudden impulse 
of compassion to stop and inquire the cause of the grief he beheld. 
It was soon explained: 

Master Tom had com( to sail a little boat which his grandpapa, 
had given him; the siring by which the length of its voyages was 
to have been regulated had broken, and the boat had drifted further 
and further liom its hapless owner, until at last it had reached a 
species of buoy, to which the park-keeper’s punt was occasionally 
mooied, and there it hud chosen to slick hard and fast. In ibis 
rebellious little craft was embarked, so to speak, all Master Tom's 
present state of earthly happiness; hence the sorrow wbich Mary’s 
caresses were unable to assuage, and hence the lamentations which 
had attracted Lewis’s attention. 

” Don’t cry so, my lillle man, and we’ll see if we can’t find a 
way of getting it for you,” observed Lewis encouragingly, raising 
the distressed ship owner in his arms, to afford liim a better view of 
his stranded property. “We must ask my dog to go and fetch it 
for us:— Come here, Mr. Faust. You are not afraid of him? — he 
won’t hurt you— that’s right, pat him; there’s a brave boy; now 
ask him to fetch your boat for you. Say, ‘ Please, Mr. Faust, go 
and get me my boat?’— say so.’ And the child, half-pleased, half- 
frightened, but with implicit faith in the dog’s intellectual powers, 
and the advisability of conciliating its good will and imploring its 
assistance, repeated the desired formula tvith great unction. 

“ That’s well! Now, nurse, take care of master— what did you 


52 


LEWIS ARUl^DEL. 


aay? — ay, Master Tom, while 1 show Faust where the boat is.’* Aa 
he spoke he took up a stone, and, attracting Faust’s attention to his 
proceedings jerked it into the water just beyond the spot where the 
Ijoat lay, at the same time directing him to fetch it. 

With a bound like the spring of a lion the noble dog dashed to- 
ward the water, and swam vigorously toward the object of his quest, 
reached it, seized it in his powerful jaws, and turned his head to- 
waid the bank in preparation for his homew’ard voyage, while the 
delighted child laughed and shouted with joy at the prospect of re- 
gaining his lost treasure. Instead, however, "of proceeding at once 
toward the shore, the dog remained stationary, beating the waier 
with his forepaw^s to keep himself afloat, and occasionally uttering 
an uneasy whine. 

“ Here, Faust, Faust! what in the world’s the matter with him?” 
exclaimed Lewis, calling the dog and inciting him by gestures to 
return, but in vain; his struggles only became more violent with- 
out making the slightest progress through the water. 

Attracted by the sight, a knot of loungers gathered round the 
spot, and various suggestions, were hazarded as to the dog’s unac- 
countable behavior. “I think he must be seized with a cramp,” 
observed a good-natured round faced man, in a velveteen jacket, 
who looked like one of the park-keepers. ” The animal is snicidally 
disposed, apparently,” remarked a tall aristocratic-looking young 
man, with a sinister expression of countenance, to which a pair of 
thick mustaches imparled a character of fierceness. “Anxious to 
submit to the cold-water cure, more probably,” remarked his com- 
panion. “ It will be kill rather than cure with him before long,” 
returned the former speaker, with a half laugh; “he’s getting 
lower in the water eveiy minute.” 

“ He is caught by the string of the boat w'bich is twisted round 
the buoy!” exclaimed Lewis, who, during the above conversation, 
had seirod the branch of a tree, and raising himself by iiis bands, 
had reaches! a posiiion from which he w*as able to perceive the cause 
of his favorite’s disaster; “ he’ll be drowned if be is not unfastened. 
Wlio knows where the key of the boat-house is kept?” 

” I’ll run and fetch it,*’ cried the good-natured man; ” it's at the 
receiving-house 1 believe.” 

“ Quick! or it will be of no use!” said Lewis in the greatest ex- 
citement. 

The man hurried off, but the crowd round the spot bad now be- 
come so dense— even carriages filled with fashionably dressed ladies 
having stopped to learn the catastrophe— that it was no easy matter 
for him to make his way through it, and several minutes elapsed 
without witnessing his return. In the meantime the poor dog’s 
struggies were becoming fainter and fainter, bis whining bad 
changed to sometliing beiw^een a hoarse bark and a bowl, a sound 
so clearly indicative of suffering as to be most distressing to ilie by- 
•tanders; and it was evident that if some effort was not speedily 
made for his relief, he must sink. 

“ He shall not perish unassisted?” exclaimed Lewis impetuou*- 
ly; “ who will lend me a knife?” 

Several were immediately offered him, from which he selected 
one with a broad blade. 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


53 


“ May 1 inquire how you propose to prevent the catastrophe?"’ 
asked superciliously the mustached gentleman to whom we have 
before alluded. 

“ You shall see directly,’* returned Lewis, divesting himself of 
his coat, waistcoat, and neckcloth. 

“ 1 presume you are aware there is not one man in a hundred 
who could swim that distance in his clothes,” resumed the speaker, 
in the sneering tone. ” Do you actually— 1 merely ask as a matter 
of curiosity— do you really consider it worth while to peril your life 
for that ot a dog?” 

” For such a noble dog as that, yes!” replied Lewis sternly, ” 1 
might not take the trouble for a mere puppy and he pronounced 
the la^t two words with a marked emphasis, which rendered his 
meaning unmistakable. The person he addressed colored with 
anger, and slightly raised his cane, but he read that in Lewis’s face 
which caused him to relinquish his intention, and smiling scorn- 
fully he folded his arms ana remained to observe the event. 

This was Lewis’s introduction to Charles Leicester’s elder brother, 
Lord Bellefield, the afhanced ot Annie Grant. 

Having completed liis preparations, Lewis placed the knife be- 
tween his teeth, and, motioning to the crowd to stand on one side, 
gave a short run, dashed through the shallow water, and then, 
breasting the stream gallantly, swam with powerful strokes toward 
the still struggling animal. As he perceived his master approach- 
ing, the poor dog ceased howling, and, seemingly reanimated by 
the prospect of assistance, redoubled his efforts to keep himself 
afloat. 

In order to avoid the stroke of his paws, Lewis swam round him, 
and, supporting himself by resting one hand upon the buoy, he 
grasped the knite with the other, and at one stroke severed the 
siring. The efiect was instantly perceptible; freed from the re- 
straint which had till now paralyzed his efforts the dog at once rose 
higher in the w^ater; and even in this extremity, his affection for 
his master overpowering his instinct of self -preservation, he sw^ain 
toward him with the child’s boat (of which, throughout the whole 
scene, he had never loosened his hold) in his mouth. 

Merely waiting to assure himself that the animal had yet strength 
enough remaining to enable him to regain the shore, Lewis set him 
the example by quilting the buoy and striking out lustily tor the 
bank; but now the weight of his clothes, thoroughly saturated as 
they had become, began to tell upon him, and his strokes grew 
perceptibly weaker, while his breath came short and thick. 

Faust, on the contrary, freed from the string which had entangled 
him, proceeded merrily, and reached shore ere Lewu's had performed 
half the distance. Depositing the boat in triumph at the feet of one 
of the bystanders, the generous animal only slapped to shake the 
wet trom his ears, and then plunging.in again swam to meet hia 
master. It was perhaps fortunate that he did so, for Lewis’s 
strength was rapidly deserting him, hia clothes appearing to drag 
him down like leaden weights. Availing himself of the dog’s 
assistance, he placed one arm across its back, and, still paddling 
with the other, he wuis partly dragged, and partly himself swam 
forward, till his feet touched the round, when, letting the animal 


54 


LEWIS AKUJS-DEL. 


go free, he waded through the shallow water and reached the bank, 
exhausted indeed, but in safety. 

Rejecting the many frieudl}’^ ofters of assistance with which be 
was instantly overwhelmed, he wrung the water from his dripping 
hair, stamped it out of his boots, and, hastily resuming his coat and 
waistcoat, was about to quit a spot where he was the observed of all 
observers, when Lord Bellefield, after exchanging a few words wiih 
his companion, made a sign to attract Lewis s attention, and having 
succeeded in so doing, said, “ That is a fine dog of yours, sir; will 
you take a twenty pound note for idm?” 

Lewis’s countenance, paie from exhaustion, flushed with anger at 
these words; pausing a moment, however, ere he replied, he an- 
swered coldly, “ Had he been tor sale, sir, 1 should scarcely have 
risked drowning in order to save him— 1 value my Ide at more tliun 
twenty pounds.” Then turning on his heel, he whistled Faust to 
follow him, and walked away at a rapid pace in the direction of 
liyrle Park Corner. 

xAmong the carriages that immediatel}'’ drove off was one coutain- 
ing two ladies who had witnessed the whole proceeding; and us it 
dashed by him, Lewis accidentally looking up, caught a glimpse of 
the bright face of Annie Grant!* 


CHAPTER IX. 

WHEUEIN RICHARD FRERE AND LEWIS TURN MOIIAMMEDANvS. 

Lewis lalhei expected a lecture from Richard Frere on account 
of his aquatic exploit; but he need not have made liimself uneasy 
on the subject, tor tlie only remark his friend volunteered was: 
“ ’Well, you know, it the dog could not be saved without, of course 
you were obliged to go in and fetch him; 1 should have done the 
fcame myself, though 1 hate cold water as i hate the old gentleman, 
and never could swim in my life.” 

When they had concluded dinner, Frere inquired, suddenly: ” By 
the way, do you mean to come with me to-night?” 

‘‘Before I can answer that question,” returned Lewis, “you 
must condescend lo inform me where you are going, and what you 
mean to do when you get there.” 

“ do be sure; 1 thought 1 had told you; but the fact is. 1 have 
been working rather hard lalel}’^ (I read for three hours alter you 
were gone to bed last night), and my head is not over clear to-day. 
The case is this, sir: Tom Bracy, who, as 1 before told you, is 
lamentably addicted to practical jokes, happens to be acquainted 
with a certain elderly lady, who devotes her life to lion -hunting. 

“ To wliatV inquired Lewis. 

“ To catching celebrities, otherwise called lions,” replied Frere, 
“ and parading them at her parties for the benefit of her irieuds 
and acquaintances. On the lust occasion of this kind, she confided 

* The foregoing scene is founded on fact, the author having been present 
when a dog nearly perished in the Serpentine, about tliree years ago, and was 
saved exactly as he has described; the interesting trait of the half-drowiied ani- 
ina retuniiug to meet his master being also true. 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


55 


to Bracy her longing clepire to obtain an introduction to a certain 
Persian prince, or thereabouts, wlio has lately come over to tliis 
country, to avoid the somewhat troublesome attentions of his family, 
his .younger brother being most anxious to pul out his eyes, and his 
grandfather only waiting a favorable opportunity for bowslringiug 
him.” 

“ * A little more than kin, and less than kind,’ ” quoted Lewis. 

“ I knew you v/ould say that,” returned Frere; “ in fact, 1 should 
have felt quite surprised if you had not. But to proceed with my 
account. Bracy soon found out that his hostess had never seen the 
aforesaid Asiatic magnate, and knew next to nothing about him; 
whereupon he determined ‘ to get a little fun,’ as he calls it, out of 
the affair, an(i accordingly informed her very gravely that from his 
acquaintance with the Persian language, he was in the habit of ac- 
companying the prince to evening parlies in the character of inter- 
preter. and that it she would ini rust him with an invitation he 
.should be happy to convey it to his highness, and try to induce him 
to accept it. She joyfull.y acceded to the proposal, and Ibis very 
evening tire parly is lo take place. And now you can guess the 
purport of Bracy’s visit to me?” 

” He wauts you to act as interpreter in his stead, 1 suppose; his 
knowledge of Persian being probably confined to the word ‘ bosli.’ ” 

” Wrong.!” rejoined Frere, laughing. ‘‘ A higher destiny awaits 
me. 3. am for the nonce to be elevated to the proud ]>ositioii of one 
of the Blood Boyal of Persia. In plain English, Bracy knows as 
much of the prince as I do of the Pope; the whole thing is a hoax 
from beginning to end, and he wants me to personate his iiighness, 
which 1 have half promised to do, while you are to represent an 
attendant satrap, a sort of Mussulman gold stick in wailing, always 
supposing that you have no objection so to employ 3 'ourself.” 

“To tell you'the truth, 1 ain scarcely in the vein for such fool- 
ing,” returned Lewis moodily. “ 1 bale practical jokes, to begin 
with, nor can 1 see much tun in taking advantage of the absurdities 
of some weak-minded old lady. Who is the woman about to be 
victimized?” 

“ An opulent widow, one Lady Lombard, * the interesting relict 
of a bekniglited pawnbroker,’ as Bracy calls her,” replied Frere. 

” Who?'' inquired Lewis, becoming suddenly interested. 

Frere repeated tbe name and Lewis continued: 

“Then I’m your man, and will enter into your plot heart and 
soul; that woman’s fair game, and we’ll fool Her to the top of 
her bent.” 

“ Why, how now?” exclaimed Frere, astonished at his friend’s 
impetuosity. “ This is a very sudden change. Do you then know 
the lady?” 

^'Tes, Ido,” rejoined Lewis bitterly, “ know her for a coarse- 
minded, purse-proud, wreched old woman!” 

“ Phew!’’ whistled Frere. “ May 1 ask how the good lady has 
been so unfortunate as thus (0 have excited your bitter indignation 
against her?” 

“Never mind,” returned Lewis, rising hastily, and walking to 
the window; “ it is enough that 1 have sufficient dislike to her to 
enter cordially into 3 'Our hoax.” 


56 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


“ TliaUs odd now,” muttered Frere, soliloquizing. “ It 1 bad 
not known bis ‘ anUcedents,' as tlie French term it, nearly as well as 
1 know my own, 1 should bare fancied the hue lamented Lombard 
had. in bygone hours, refused to negotiate some small loan for him, 
on the perishable security of personal clothing. He canH have 
popped the question to the widow at one of the German watering- 
places, and encountered a negative?” 

“ Fiere, don’t mention my dislike of Lady Lombard to your 
facetious acquaintance,” observed Lewis, turning round. ‘‘ i have 
no ambition to become a butt tor his bad puns. ” 

‘'Never fear, man. I’ll not betray your confidence,” returned 
Frere, ‘‘ more particularly when, as in the present instance, 1 don’t 
happen to share it.” 

” Do you care to know?” asked Lewis. 

” Not by no manner of means, as the young lady said when the 
parson asked her whether she was prepared to give up all the pomps 
and vanities of this wicked world,” returned Frere. ‘‘ And now, 
as we have to be converted into Pagans before ten o’clock, suppose 
we start.” 

A quarter ot an hour’s brisk walking bi ought them to Bracy’s 
lodgings, where they found that gentleman deeply immersed in 
.study, with the fez which was to assict in changing Frere into a 
prince stuck rakishly on one side of his head. On perceiving his 
visitors, he sprung from his seat, and making a low salaam, in the 
course of wdiich performance the fez tumbled od and knocked down 
a candle, he exclaimed: 

” Most illustrious brothers of the Sun, and first-cousins once re- 
moved of the Moon and all the Stars, may your shadows never be 
less! \ou do me proud by honoring niy poor dw^elling with your 
seraphic presences !” 

”1 see you have got the wherewithal to make heathens of us,” 
returned Frere, poiniing to a couple ot Persian dresses wdiicli hung 
against the wgll, like a brace of Bluebeard’s headless wives. 

” Bude Light of the Universe, yes!” replied Bracy; ‘‘ your slave 
has procured the ‘ wear with all ’ necessaries to complete your trans- 
formation from Infidel PVringhees to true sons of Islam. Would 1 
have had my prince appear without a khelaiit— a dress of honor? Be 
Cheshm! upon my eyes be it; by the way, jl’s a remarkable fact 
that the expression ‘ my eyes ’ should be court lingo in Persia, and 
bordering upon Billingsgate in English.” 

“ You seem particularly well up iu the pseudo- Persian metaphor 
to-niiiht, Bracy,” observed Frere; “ has the fez inspired you?” 

“ No, there’s nothing miraculous in the affair,” returneil Bracy; 
“ it is very easil}^ explained. 1 have been reading np lor the occa- 
sion— cramming, sir; a process successfully practiced upon heavy 
Johneans at Cambridge and corpulent turkey poults in Norfolk.” 

“ Indeed!— 1 was not aware that you are a Persian scholar; may I 
inquire what line of study you have adopted?” 

“ One that 1 have myself struck out,” responded Bracy; “and 
which has been attended, 1 flatter myself, wuth the most successful 
results. 1 first subjected myself to a strict course ot Ilajii Baba, 
after which 1 underwent a very searching examination iu Moriear's 
* Zohrj.b; or, The Hostage.’ I next thoroughly confused my mind 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


with ‘Thalaba,’ but brought myselt round again upon ‘ Bayley 
Frazer's Travels,’ alter which 1 made myself master of * Ayesha; or. 
The Maid ot Kiiars;’ and by way of laying in a filling stock of the 
sentimental finished off with Byron’s ‘Giaour;’ — stop, let me give 
you a specimen;” and, replacing the unruly fez, he sprung upon a 
chair, and throwing himself into a mock-tragedy attitude, began 
bombastically to recite; 

“ ’Twas sweet, where cloudless stars were bright, 

To view the wave of watery light, 

And hear its melody by night; 

And oft had Hassan’s childhood play’d 
Around the verge of that cascade: 

And oft upon his mother’s breast 
That sound had harmonized his rest; 

And oft had Hassan’s youth along 

Its banks been soothed by Beauty’s song. 

And softer seemed each melting tone 
Of music mingled with its own.” 

” There now, I call that pretty well for a young beginner; a little 
of that will go a good way with my Lady Lombard: it is like a 
penn y bun, cheap to begin with, and very filling at the pi ice. ” 

” Turks and Persians are not exactly alike, tiiongh you seem to 
think they are,” observed Frere dryly. ” Have you laid down any 
plan of operations, may 1 ask? You must give me very full and 
clear direcuons how to b3havtt, for to tell you the truth my acquaint- 
ance with the higher ranks of Persia is infinitesimally select.” 

“Oh! it’s all plain sailing enough,” returned Bracy, ” you have 
only to look wise, roll your eyes about, and occasionally jabber a 
little Persian or any other unknown tongue you may" prefer, wiiich 
1, not understanding, shall translate ad libitum as the occasion may 
require.” 

” vVnd sweetly you will do it too, or 1 am much mistaken,” mut- 
tered Frerc, divesting himself of his gieat-coat. 

” Pray inform me, as I am unfortunately ignorant of ail the 
Oriental languages, how do you propose to supply my deficiencies?” 
inquiied Lewis. ” Is my part, like Bottom the weaver’s, to be 
nothing but roaring?” 

“ Why, as you are about to enact a lion, it would appear not in- 
appropiiate,” relumed Bracy; ‘‘yes, it never struck me; there 
seems a slight difficulty there— you never got up any ‘ Memoria 
Technica,’ did you?” 

Lewis shook bis bead. 

‘‘That’s unlucky,” continued Bracy; “a page or two of that 
would have served the purpose beautifully. I met a man the other 
night who had struck out a new system for himself, and was per- 
fectly rabid about it. He had bottled, according to his own account, 
the whole history of England into an insinuating little word that 
sounded to me sometiiing like ‘ HuinguflSuhoggogrificicuana,’ and 
bagged all Hansard’s Repoils, from Pitt to Peel, in half a dozen 
lines of impossible doggerel. Oh! be was a wonderful fellow, clearly 
mad, but intensely funny. 1 kept him in tow twm good hours, and 
made him explain his system twice over to everybody, till the people 
were ready to cry, he bored them so. 1 w^as nearly l3eing punished 


58 


LEAVIS aku:n"del. 


tor it though, as he was actually weak enough to believe in me, and 
calleci (he next clay to traternize. ” 

“ And how did you escape?” asked Lewis. 

” Why, 1 have a sort of tiger (the imp that let you in, in tact) 
who is a first-rate liar-most excellent, useful boy, 1 do assure you, 
sir. 1 sent him down with a message that 1 had an attack ot Asiatic 
cholera, but if he would take a glass of wine, and look at the paper 
till the crisis was over, I would come to him if it terminated favor- 
ably. That settled the business; he did not wait the event, but was 
off 'like a shot, thinking the infection might disagree with his * sys- 
tem,’ perhaps.” 

” Then he has not repeated his vi«it?” inquired Frere, 

‘‘ No; and 1 hope he will not,” returned Bracy, “ for there will 
be nothing left for me to have but elephantiasis or the plague, and 
he must be very far gone in innocence it he can swallow either of 
them.” 

” Am 1 expected to put on these things?” asked Frere, holding 
up a most voluminous pair of Persian trousers, made of a species of 
rich gauze enriched with glittering spangles. 

” Yea, verily, most emphaticall}’^ and decidedly, yes,” replied 
Bracy. 

” W'ell, what must be must be, 1 suppose,” rejoined Frere, with 
a sigh of resignation; ” but 1 never thought to see myself in such 
a garment. One thing is clear, 1 must stand all the evening, for 
there’s no man living can sit down in them.” 

” Never tear,” returned Bracy encouragingly; ” only do you go 
into my bedroom, and put on your robes, and I’ll insure your taking 
your seat on your return. Never make mountains of molehills, 
man; there are worse dresses than that in the world; tor instance, 
it might have been a kilt.” 

” That’s true,” said Frere reflectively, and unhooking the richest 
Mrs. Bluebeard, he proceeded after sundry ejaculations of disgust 
to carry it into the other loom, whither after a minute or two Bracy 
followed him to perform, as he said, the part of lady’s-maid. After 
a lapse of about a quarter of an hour, the door was again unclosed, 
and Bracy, exclaiming, “Now, Mr. Arundel, allow me to have the 
honor of introducing you to his Sublime Highness Bee Chard el 
Freer,” ushered in the person named. 

Never was so complete a transformation seen. The Persian dress, 
rounding off and concealing the angularities of his figure, gave a 
sort of dignity to Frere, quite in keeping with the character he was 
about to assume; while mustaches and a flowing beard imparted 
a degree ot picturesqueness to his countenance which accorded well 
with his irregular but expressive features and bright animated eyes. 
A shatvl ot rich pattern confined his waist, while a girdle, studded 
with (apparently) precious stones, sustained a sword and dagger, 
the jeweled hills and brilliantly ornamented sheaths of which added 
not a little to the magnificence of his appearance. 

” Voila!” exclaimed Bracy, patting him on the back. ” What 
do you think of that by way of u get-up? There’s a ready-made 
prince for you. Asylum of the Uuiverse, how do you find yourself? 
do your new garments sit easily?” 

” None of your nonsense, sir,” replied Frere; ” if 1 am a prince. 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


59 


behave to me ns sick, it you please. 1 tell you what, I shall be tear- 
ing some of this diapery before the evening is over. Ah! well, it is 
not for life, that is one comfort: but 1 never was properly thankful 
before for not having been born a woman. Think of sinking into a 
vale of years in a muslin skirt — what a prospect for an intellectual 
being!” 

” Now, Mr. A.iundel, your dress awaits you,” said Bracy, ” and 
time is on the wing. We shall have her ladyship in hysterics, if she 
fancies her prince means to disappoint her.” 

Lewis’s toilet was soon completed, and proved eminently success- 
lul, the flowing robe setting oft his tall, graceful figure to the utmost 
advantage, and the scarlet fez with its drooping tassel contrasting 
well with his dark curls, and enhancing the eflect of his delicately cut 
and striking features. Biacy making his appearance at the same 
moment, most elaborate!}^ got up lor the occasion, with a blue satin 
under-waistcoat, and what he was pleased to denominate the Order 
of the Holy Poker suspended by a led ribbon from his biiUou bole, 
the tiger of lying celebrity was dispatched for a vehicle, and the 
three started. 

‘‘To a reflective mind,” began Bracy, when an interval of 
w^ood-pavenient allowed conversation to become audible, ‘‘ to a re- 
flective mind there is no section of the zoology of the London streets 
more interesting than that which treats of the habits and general 
economy of the genus cabman.” 

” As to their general economy,” returned Frere, ” as tar as 1 am 
acquainted wdth it, it appears to consist in doing you out of more 
than their fare, and expending the capital thus acquired at a gin 
palace.” 

‘‘ Sir, you misapply terms, treat an important subject with unbe- 
coming levity, and libel an interesting race of men,” returned 
Bracy, with a countenance of the most immovable gravity. 

” lnterest<?^?, you mean,” rejoined Frere. 

‘‘ One very striking peculiarity of Hie species,” continued Bracy, 
not heeding the interruption, ‘‘ is their talent for subtle analysis of 
character, "and power ot discriminating it by the application of un- 
usual tests.” 

” What’s coming now?” inquired Frere. ‘‘ Keep 5"our ears open, 
Lewis, my son, and acquire wisdoir from the lips of the descenaant 
of many Ilracys.” 

‘‘lam aware an assertion of this nature should not be lightly 
hazarded,” resumed Bracy, ” as it carries little conviction to the ill- 
I’egulated minds of the skeptical, unless it be verified by some illus- 
trative exi.mple drawn from the actual.” 

” "You have not got such a thing as a Johnson’s dictionary about 
you, 1 suppose?” interrupted Frere; ‘‘ i want to look out a few of 
Uiose long words.” 

“With this view,” resumed Bracy, “1 will relate a little anec- 
dote, which will at the same time prove my position and display the 
capacity of the London cabman for terse anil epigrammatic defini- 
tion I bad been engaged on committee business at the House of 
Commons, a short time since, and was returning to my lodgings, 
when, as I emerged into Palace Yard, it began to rain. Seeing me 
without an umbrella, a cabman on the stand hailed me with the 


60 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


view ot ascertaining whether 1 required his sfrvices. While I was 
debating with myself whether the rain were likely to increase oi 
not, 1 was hailed by the cad ot an omnibus, just turning into Par- 
liament Street.” 

” 1 never do make puns,” began Frere, ” or else 1 should be in- 
clined to ask whether being exposed to so much hail and rain at the 
same time did not give you coldP’ 

” It happened tliat 1 had just bet a new hat with a man,” con- 
tinued Bracy, still preserving the most perfect gravity, ” as to how 
many times the chairman ot the committee would take snufi:, and 
had lost niy wager; this made me feel awfully stingy, and accoid- 
iogly, availing myself of the lowest of the two eslimat s, 1 Irate r- 
nized with the 'bus fellow, and melaphorie ally threw over the cab- 
man. As I was ascending the steps ot the vehicle 1 had resolved to 
patronize, the following remark tropi the injured Jehu reached my 
ears; it was addressed to an amphibious individual: ' eii sabots ct 
bandeaux defoin * (as the ‘ Morning Post ’ would have it) yclept the 
wateiiiian, and it you don’t think it fully bears out my previous 
assertions, 1 can only say that jmu are an incompetent judge ot evi- 
dence. He first attracted his fiiend’s attention by pointing to me 
over his shoulder with his thumb, and winking signifitaMily; then 
added in a tone of intense disgust, ‘ See that cove; 1 thort he worn’t 
no good; ’stead o’ takin’ a cab to bisself, tike a gent, he’s goin’ to 
have threepen* orth of all sorts T' 

As Bracy, am’d the laughter of his companions, concluded his re- 
cital, the vehicle which conveyed them drew up at the door ot Lady 
Lombard’s mansion. 


CHAPTER X. 

CONTAINS A PRACTICAL COMMENTARY ON THE TEXT, “PUT NOT 
YOUR TRUST IN PRINCES.” 

Lady Lombard, being in many senses of the word a great lady, 
lived in a great house, which looked out upon that shocking sight, 
a London garden, and had its front door at the back, for the sake 
of appeal ances. At this perverted entrance did Bracy ’s mendacious 
tiger, standing on tiptoe, the better to reach the knocker, fulminate 
a duodecimo edition of Olympian Jove, until two colossal footmen 
in a great slate of excitement and scarlet plush opened the door so 
suddenly as nearly to cause the prostration ot the booted boy, who 
only saved himseif irom falling by stumbling, bools and all, against 
the tall shin of the highest footman, thereby eliciting from that no- 
ble creature an ejaculation suggestive of bis intense appreciation ot 
the injury done him, and hirding, not obscurely, at his wishes in 
regard to the futuie destiny of his juvenile assailant. That youth, 
however, who, we are forced to confess, was not only as ” impu- 
dent as he was high,” but, reckoning by the peculiar standard 
which the expression aforesaid indicates, at the very least three feet 
more so, hastened thus to rebuke his adversary. ” Hit’s lucky for 
you, ISiaypole, as i hain’t hou the bench of major straits yet, hor 
there’d a been five hob bout o’ your red plush poekets lor sweann’, 
us sure has heggs is heggs! hit that’s hall yer gratitude for me a- 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


61 


bringin’ ot ye my honorable master and two noble Purshun piinces, 
hi’d better border the carriage to turn round, and take 'em back 
agen. ” 

Having astonished the disgusted giant by this speech, the imp 
bounded down the steps, and held open the cab-door, with an air ot 
* dignified condescension. 

“ Is not that boy a treasure?” whispered Bracy to Frere, as they 
alighted: “how neatly he took the shine out of that thick-witted 
pyramid ot tool's flesh. 1 could not have done the thing better my- 
self.” 

“ 1 don’t pretend to any very unusual powers ot foresight,” mut- 
tered Frere under his beard, “ but 1 think 1 could point out that 
brat’s residuary legatee.” 

“ Ah. indeed!” returned Bracy, “ and who do you fix upon? the 
Archl)ishop ot Canterbury?” 

“No, the hangman,” was the gruff reply. 

“ Well, I’d myselt venture to insure him against drowning for a 
very moderate premium,” rejoined his master, laughing; “ but now 
1 real)} must beg you to bear in mind that you are utterly ignorant 
of file English language.” 

“ Inshallah! I’d forgotten my illustrious descent most complete- 
ly,” answered Frere; “but I’ll be careful; so, for the next three 
hours, ‘ my native tongue, good night.' ” 

While this conversation had been carried on in an undertone, the 
part}^ had been ushered upstairs amid the wondering gaze of serv 
ants innumerable, of all sorts and sizes, from tlie littie foot-page, 
staggering under a galaxy ot buttons, to the mighty butler, barely 
able to w^alk beneath the weigiit of his own dignity. 

“ What name shall 1 say, gentlemen?” asked the iast named 
official in his most insinuating tone: for a Persian prince was a rar- 
it}^ sufficient to impress even his imperturbable spirit with a seuse 
of respect. 

“ His Highness, Prince MustapUa Ali Khan and suite,” returned 
Brac 7 authoritatively. 

Immediately the door of a well lighted saloon was flung back on 
its hinges, and in a stentorian voice the major-domo announced 
“ His Highness, Prince Mystity-all-1 can and sii-et.’' 

“ By Jove! he’s hit it,” whispered Bracy to Lewis, as, following 
Frere, they entered the room, “ he won't beat that if he tries till 
he’s black in the face.” 

As he finished speaking, tlie guests, who bad crowded as near the 
door as good breeding would allow, to witness the prince’s entree^ 
drew back, as a rustling of silks and satins announced the approach 
of their lioste-s. 

Lady Lombard, who, to judge by appearances, would never 
again celebrate her forty-fifth birthdaj^ had been a handsome, and 
still was a fine-looking woman. She was tall and portly ; in fact, 
portly is rather a mild term to use in speaking ot her ladyship, but 
we don’t like to stigmatize her as stout, and beyond that we could 
not go in speaking ot a lad 3 ^ She had a very bright color and a 
very fair skin, in the display ot which she was by no means nig- 
gardly, her gown having short sleeves (so short, indeed, as scarcely 
to be worth mentioning), and being— well, we know a French word 


02 


LEWI6 ARUNDEL. 


which would express our mennins:, but we prefer our own language, 
and must therefore say, being rather too mucli otf where it would 
liave been better a little more on. She wore a profusion of light 
ringlets, which we feel justified in stating upon our personal re- 
sponsibility to have been her own, for Lady Lombaui as an hon- 
orable woman, and paid her bills most punrtually. These flaxen 
locks rejoiced in one peculiarity— they w'ere not divided in the cen- 
ter, after the usual method, but the m medio iutissimus ibis princi- 
ple had been abandoned in favor of a new and striking 
which, until we were introiluced to her ladyship, we had believed 
to be restricted to the blue-and-silver epicene pages wdio worship the 
prima-donna and poke fun at the soubrettes on the opera s*age — the 
page-like parting, then, was on one side of her head, and across her 
ample foreheaii lay a festoon of hair, arranged so as to suggest to a 
speculative mind a fanciful resemblance to the drapery at the top of 
a window curtain. Her features were by no means witbout expres- 
sion; on the contrary, meek pomposity and innocent self-satisfaction 
were written in legible cliiiracters on her good-natured countenance. 

Ihe most carefully written descriptions usually prove inadequate 
to convey to the reader’s mind a just idea of the object the}- would 
fain depict; but as we are especially anxious that others should see 
Lady Lombard with our eyes, we must beg their attention to the 
following simple process by which we trust to enable them to realize 
her. 

Let each reader, then, call to mind the last average specimen of 
fat and fair babyhood, which may have come under his notice; let 
him imagine it clothed in the richest sky-blue satin; let him deprive 
it of its coral, and substitute in its place a gold watch and append- 
ages; round its fat little excuse for a neck let him clasp a diamond 
necklace; let him dress its hair, or provide it a flaxen wig — if its 
hair should be as yet a pleasure to come — made after the fashion we 
have above described; and let him. lastly, by a powerful effort of 
imagination, inflate this baby until, still preserving its infantine 
proportions, it shall stand five feet nine in its satin shoes— and he 
will t on have arrived at a very correct idea of Lady Lombard as 
slie appeared, when, rustling forward in a tremor of delight, she 
advanced to perform the part of gracious hostess to the Prince of 
Persia. 

“ Really, Mr. Bracy,” she began, as that gentleman, with a coun- 
tenance of solemn satisfaction, stepped forward to meet her, “ really 
this is too kind of you; how do you doV— so you have positively 
brought me the dear prince?— you iulroduce me to him, and 
explain to him how nery much honored I am by his condescension 
in coming this e'^ening?” 

Be it observed, by the way, that her ladyship spoke with the 
greatest empressement, and had a habit of utter ing many of her- 
words in italics, if not in small capitals. 

“ It w’ill give me much satisfaction to do so,” returned Bracy 
with grave courtesy; ” but 1 can assure you the prince came quite 
of his own accoid; the oiomenl 1 had explained y(iur invitation to 
him, he caught (he note out of my hand, presped it three times to 
his forehead, and exclaimed, in the court dialect of Iraun, * Ilaha- 
zur imeyur manziir;' he did, indeed.” 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


63 


“ No- 0 - 0 , really ejaculated Lady Lombard, more emphatically 
than she had ever yet spoken in her life; then, as a faint ^ijlimmer- 
in^? came across her that there was a slight anomaly in appearing so- 
deeply interested in a remark which she could by no possibility 
understand, she added— “ But you should recollect, Mr. Bracy, that 
ewry one does not possess your remarkable acquaintance v(dlh the 
Eastern languages.” 

“ Pshaw! how forgellul 1 am!” returned Bracy; ” your ladyship 
must excuse me; the prince has been so short a time in this country 
that 1 am scarcely yet accustomed to my new duties. The tew 
words 1 had the honor to repeat to you merely signify —you know 
the Eastern metaphors are very peculiar— ‘ 1 * will kiss’ — it’s the 
usual form of accepting any distinguished invitation 1 will kiss 
her ladyship’s doormat !’— curious, is it not?” 

” Yes, mdeed,'* was the sympathetic reply. At the same moment 
Bracy, turning to Frere, presented him to their hostess saying„ 
” Prince, this is Lady Lombard — Twygthur rliumaxtld gal!'" 

The first sound that escaped his liighness was a hysterical grunt, 
which, in an Englishman, might have been deemed indicative of 
suppressed laughter; but proceeding from the bearded lips of a Per- 
sian potentate, assumed the character of an Eastern ejaculation. 
Aftei muttering a few real Persian words with an appearance of 
deep respect, Frere took her ladyship’s plump white hand between 
both his own, and raised it to his lips, then relinquishing it, he 
spoke again, made a low salaam, and drawing himself up to his 
full height, crossed his arms on his breast and stood motionless be- 
fore hei. The appealing looks which she cast upon Bracy when the 
prince spoke was a severe trial to his gravity; but by long experi- 
ence in practical joking, he had acquired wmndertul command of 
countenance, which stood him now in good stead, and he proceeded 
to translate Frere’s sentences into certain flowery and unmeaning 
comDliments, which were about as unlike their real signification as 
need be. 

After Lewis had gone through the same ceremony, without the 
speeches, for which omission Bracy accounted by explaining that it 
was not etiquette tor the Persian nobles to speak when in attendance 
on their priuces, they were led to the upper end of the apartment, 
where Frere scaled himself cross-legged on a sofa, and made him- 
self very much at home, keeping Bracy fully employed in invent- 
ing translations to speeches not one word of which he or any one 
else present comprehended. Lewis, in the meantime, who was be- 
coming dreadfully tired of the whole affair, stood near the end of 
the sofa, with his arms folded across his breast, looking especially 
scornful and very particularly bored. 

‘‘ Ah!” exclaimed Lady Lombard as a pretty, graceful girl, very 
simply dresj^ed, made her way up the room, ” there s that dear Lama 
Peyton arrived— 1 imisi go and speak to her, and bring her to be 
iniroauced to the prince.” Then she added aside to Bracy, ‘‘ She’s 
immermely rich ; clear six thousand a year, and does not spend two. ” 

” A very charming trait in her cluiracter,” returned Bracy; “I’ll 
mention it to the prince. 1 don’t know that there ever was an En- 
glishwoman Queen of Persia; but that’s no reason there never should 
be one.” 


04 


LEWIS AKUKDEL. 


Bracy was accordingly introduced to the young lady, and led her, 
smiling and blushing, up to Freie, by whom he seated her and 
pave<l the way tor conversation by the following remark: 

“ llmrmy buoi aintslieaz tvnnar which, tor the danisel’s edi- 
fication, he translated, “Asylum ot the Universe! the maiden, the 
daughter ot rosea, salutes thee!’* 

Alter a short interval Lady Lombard again bore down upon them 
in lull sail, towing in her wake a small hirsute baboon-like individ- 
ual, evidently one ot her manager ie. 

“ There’s a chimpanzee!” whispered Bracy to Frere. “ Now if 
that pictuie ot ugliness turns out an Eastern traveler we’re gone 
’coons.’' 

“All right,” returned Fi’ere in the same tone, “ he’s only an 
exiled something. He came to our shop with a recommendation 
from some of the Parisian savants the other day.” 

“I must trouble you once again, Mr. Bracy,” insinuated Lady 
Lombard; “ Professor Malchapeau is dying to be introduced.” 

“ No trouble, but a pleasure,” returned Bracy; “ 1 shall have the 
greatest satisfaction in making two such illustrious individuals 
known to each other. Does the professor speak English?” 

“ Yas; 1 vas spik Angleesh von pritte veil,” leplied the person 
alluded to, strutting forward on tiptoe. “ 1 ’ave zie honaier to vish 
you how 3mu did, my prince?” 

Frere made some reply which Bracy paraphrased into, “ The de- 
scendant of many Shahs kisses the hem of the mantle of the Father 
of science.” 

The professor’s “ Angleesh ” not providing him with a suitable 
reply leady made, he w^as obliged to resort to that refuge for desti 
tute foreigners — a shrug and a grimace. 

Lady Lombard came to his assistance. 

“ Now, piofessor, suppose you were to tell his highness your 
aftecting liLtory;” adding in a whisper, “ Mr. Bracy, the interpre- 
ter, is civnnected with government, and might be of the greatest use 
to you.” 

“ Ohf, miladi, if all zie bodies had your big heart in dem, zies 
vicked vorld should be von ’eaven,” replied the professor, giatetully, 
throuirh his talented nose. “ My little storie! ohf, zie prince should 
not vant to ’ear him?” 

His liighness, however, being graciously pleased to signify his 
anxiety to do so, the small man resumed; 

“Ah, ma Patrie ! vhats I ave come thro’ for him, ven 1 vill 
ra-conte ik body shall not belief.” 

“ l o enable the prince to understand your account more clearly,” 
interrupted Bracy, “ may 1 ask to what country it relates?” 

“ Vidout von doubt, saire! you shall tell zie prince dat my little 
tale is Swish. My fadaire vas vot you cal von mayor of zie canton 
of Zurich. My biodaire and myselfs vas his only schild; since a 
long time ve vas live very ’appy, vnais enjin — but on his end, zie 
sacr^ Aairiche — von bad Oystrish government did vot you call op- 
press ma pauvre patrie, and ma fadaire, tovjours brave, got hifuself 
into von littel conspiration, vaire he did commit vat you call zie 
offens politique; vas trown to prison and in iiis confinement he did 


LEWIS ARU]S"J)EL. 65 

die. All! ' mourir pour la patrie c'est doux^ to aie for zie coun- 
tiy is zie— vat you call doux in AngleeshV” 

“ You will find the same woid in both languages, professor, only 
we pronounce it deuce,” replied Bracy, politely. 

“Ah! o' Bid bon, to die for zie country is zie deuce! Eh Men, 
after my poor fadaire was entombed, my brodaire did run himselfs 
«ava 7 , and vas converted to un berger, a little shepherd of cows, and 
1, lielas ! pour moi, jeiau desole — for myself, 1 was dissolute, left 
alone in zie vide vorld visout von friend to turn against. Mais le 
del embrace les orphehns—’Quwen embarrasses zie orplmns; 1 
marched on my foot to Paris; 1 found an unexpected uncle who 
liad supposed himself dead for some years; 1 undervent all zie sci- 
ences, and enfin me wici—ou my end here 1 am.” 

“ A most affecting history indeed,” returned Bracy, covering his 
mouth with his hand to conceal a smile. As for Frere, he had for 
some time past been nearly suffocated by suppressed laughter, 
which at length made itself so apparent that nothing but his beard 
and an assumed fit of coughing could have saved him from discov- 
ery. 

While this conversation had been going on, Miss Peyton called Lad}' 
Lombard’s attention to Jiewis, by observing: “ The interpreter, in 
entertaining the prince, seems entirely to have forgotten that very 
liandsome .young attendant, who stands there, looking so Jiaughty 
and disconsolate.” 

“Dear me! so he does,” exclaimed Lady Lombard, anxiously. 

‘ flow rery handsome he is! such a thoroughly Eastern counte- 
nance! he's a man of very high rank, too, over there. What could 
we do to amuse him?” 

“Perhaps we might show him some prints,” suggested Laura; 
“ at all events the attention might please him.” 

“ Oh, yes! how clever oi you; 1 should have thought of that 
now. I’ve a table covered with them in the boudoir,” exclaimed 
Lady Lombard, delightedly; “ but do you think you could turn 
them over for him? I’m so foolish, 1 should be quite nervous; you 
see, it’s so awkward, his not understanding English, poor fellow’! 
1 know I’m very foolish.” 

“ I shall be most happy to do anything 1 can to lessen your diffi- 
culties, ” replied the young lady, good-naturedly; “ shall 1 look out 
a book of prints?” 

“ If you iDould be so kind, my dear, you’ll find plenty in the bou- 
doir, and Pll go to Mr. Bracy and get him to speak to him for me.” 

The result of this application was the capture of Lewis, who, in- 
wardly raging, was carried off to the boudoir and seated at a table, 
while Miss Peyton, half frightened, half amused, turned over a 
volume of prints for his edification. Lady Lombard and sundry of 
the guests stood round tor some minutes w^atchmg the smiles and 
pantomimic gestures with which Lewis, or rather Hassan Bey, as 
Bracy had named him, felt bound to acknowledge the young lady’s 
attentions. 

Among the guests who were thus amusing themselves lounged a 
young dandy, who, on the strength of a Mediterranean yacht voy- 
age, set up for a distinguished traveler. To Lady Lombard’s in- 
quirv, w'hether he spoke Persian he simpered, ‘ Re’ely — no, not ex- 
3 


66 


LEWIS ARUXDEL. 


aclly so as to talk to him; but he’ll do vastly well; they prefer si-" 
JeDce, re’ely those fellows do; you know I’ve seen so much of ’em.’’’ 

“ Aou were in Persia, were j^ou not?” asked one of the company. 

‘‘Re’ely — not exactly in his part of Persia. Stamboul, the city 
of palaces, was my head-quarters; but it’s much the same; indolence, 
beards, and tobacco are the characteristics of both races.” 

” Don’t you think he is charmingly handsome?” asked an old 
young lady, shaking her ringlets after a fashion which five years 
before had been a very ” telling ” maneuver. 

“Re’-ely, 1 should scarcely have said so,” was the reply; ” the boy is 
well enough for an Asiatic. 1 like a more — ahem! manly style of 
things.” And as he spoke he passed his hand caressingly over a 
violent pair of red w’hiskers which garnished his own hard-featured 
physiognomy. 

The cool impudence of the remark inspired Lewis with so intense 
a sentiment of disgust that his lip curled involuntarily, and he 
turned over the print before him with a gesture of impatience. On 
looking up he was rather disconcerted to find Laura Peyton’s pierc- 
ing black eyes watching him curiously. 

” You’ve given us nothing new in the musical way lately. Lady 
Lombard,” observed the “ sear and yellow leaf ” damsel before 
alluded to. 

” 1 expect a lady to stay with me soon,” was the reply, ” whom 
1 think you’ll be pleased with; she sings and plays in very ^rs^rate 
style.” 

” Indeeai Is fire an amateur or professional, may 1 inquire?” 

” really, my dear Miss Sparkless, you’ve asked a difficult 

question. The fact is,” continued Lady Lombard, sinking her 
voice, ” it’s one of those very sad cases, reduced fortune — you un- 
derstand. I mean to have her here merely out of charity;” sinking 
her voice still lower, the following words only became autlible: 
” Wife of a Captain Arundel- -foreign extraction originally —quite 
a mesalliance, 1 believe.” 

As she spoke some new arrival attracted her attention, and she and 
her confidante left the boudoir together. 

It may eas-ly be conceived with what feelings of burning indig- 
nation Lewis had listened to the foregoing remarks: but Freie’a lect- 
ure of the morning had not been without its fruits, and with his 
anger the necessity for self-control presented itself; and he was 
congratulating himself at having checked all outward signs of an- 
noyance, when he was startled by a silvery voice whispering in his 
ear: ‘‘ Persian or no Persian, sir, you understand English as well as 
Ido;” and slightly turning, his eyes encountered those of Laura 
Peyton fixed on him with a roguish gbnce. His resolution w’as in- 
stantly taken, and he replied in the same tone: ” Having discovered 
my secret, you must promise to keep it.” 

” Agreed, on one condition,” was the rejoinder. 

” And that is—?” asked Lewis. 

” That you immediately make a full coufession, and tell me all 
about it.” 

” It is a compact.” was his reply. 

” That is good,” rejoined the young lady. ‘‘Now move the 
portfolio so that your back will be toward those people. Tha‘ will 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


67 


do. Hold down your head as it you were examining the prints, 
and tlien answer my questions truly and concisely. First, you are 
an Englisli gentlemanr” 

, “ Yes, 1 hope so.*' 

“ Who is the prinae?” 

“ My friend, Richard Frere.’’ 

“ Arid wliy liave you botli come here dressed like Persians?^' 

“ To mystify our foolish hostess/’ 

For shame, sir! I’m very fond of Lady Lombard.” 

But, you know, she is a silly woman.” 

Well, never mind. Who planned this hoax?” 

“ Bracy, the so called interpreter.” 

” Does Prince Frere talk real Persian?” 

” Yes.” 

” And does the other man understand him?” 

“Not a bit.” 

“ Then he invents all the answers? That’s rather clever of him. 
1 shall go and listen presently. And you can’t talk either Persian 
or gibberish, so you hold your tongue anrl look sulky. Well, 1 
think it's all very wrong; but it’s rather droll. Poor, dear Lady 
Lombard! she’d never survive it it she did but know! And now, 
tell me, lastly, what put you in a rage just this minute and enabled 
me to find you out?” 

“ You would not care to know.” 

“ But I do care to know, sir, and you have promised to answer 
all my questions. ’ 

“ You heard a speech that woman made about a Mrs. Arundel?” 

“ Yes, surely.” 

“Learn, then, that my name is Lewis Arundel, and the lady 
referred to was my mother. Now do you understand?” 

As Lewis uttered these words in a tone of suppressed bitterness, 
his companion hastily turned away her head, and said in a low, 
hurried voice: 

“ 1 beg your pardon! 1 fear I have pained you; but 1 did not 
know — 1 could not guess—” 

“ Pray do not distress yourself,” returned Lewis kindly, Laura’s 
smile for a moment soothing his haughty brow, “ 1 am sure you 
would not hurt any one’s feelings knowingly; and since you ob- 
servrd my annoyance 1 am glad to have been able to explain its 
cause.” 

So engrossed had they been by this conversation that they had 
not observed Miss Sparkless enter the boudoir by another door; 
and they were first made aw'are of her* presence by seeing her 
smiling, breathless with astonishment at discovering Miss Peyton 
in familiar colloquy with a Persian nobleman utterly ignorant of 
the English language. 

“ Do you speak German?” asked Lewis quickly. 

Yes, a little,” returned Miss Peyton. 

“ She has not caught a woid yet,” continued Lewis; “ tell her 
you found out by accident that 1 had picked up a few German 
sentences when the prince was at the court of Prussia. White lies, 
unhappily, are inevitable on these occasions,” he continued, seeing 


68 


LEWIS AKLN'DEL. 


1)18 companion hesitate; “ it’s the only way to prevent an edairciase’ 
merit; and then think ot poor Lady Lombard’s feelings!” 

” As 1 seem tairly embarked in the conspiracy, I suppose 1 must 
do your bidding,” was the reply, and Miss SparUiess, the middle- 
aged young lady, was accordingly inlormed of Lewis’s German 
proficiency, whereat, falling into an ecstasy, she replied: 

“ How clmrming! What a dear creature he is!” On which the 
creature himself, catching Miss Peyton’s eye, was very near laugh- 
ing outright. 

‘ Laura, my love,** exclaimed Lady Lombard, entering hastily, 
” the prince is going down to supper, will you come?” Tlien, tak- 
ing her hand caressingly, she added, “Have you been much 
bored by him, poor fellow!” 

” 1 found he could speak a few words of German, and that helped 
us on,” was the reply. 

” Yes, really— 2 i)i\ we might have thought of that before,” re- 
turned Lady Lombard, by no means certain tlm Geriraii language 
might not form an impoitant part of Persian education. 

Dining supper Laura Peyton contrived to be seated between Frere 
and Bracy, the latter ot whom she kept so constantly engaged in 
interpreting for her that he scarcely got anything to eat, and came 
to the conclusion that in the whole course of his experience he had 
never before encountered such a talking w^oman. Nor was his an- 
noyance diminished by observing that Lewis, who was seated oppo- 
site, seemed lo be deriving the utmost amusement from bis discom- 
fiture. Having cxiiausted every possible pretext tor breaking off 
the conversation, and being each time foiled by the young lady’s 
quiet tact, he was about to resign himself to his fate, and relinquish 
all idea of supper, when a project occurred to him which he im- 
mediately hastened to put into execution. Waiting till Frere had 
utteied a Persian sentence, he suddenly drew iiimselt up, looked 
deeply scandalized, frowned at the speaker, shook his head, and 
muttered something unintelligible in a tone of grave remonstrance, 
then paused for a reply, whicli h'reie, intensely perplexed and by no 
means clear that he had not done something un-Persian and wrong, 
was forced to utter. This only seemed to make matters worse: 
Bracy again remonstrated in gibberish, then appeared to have de- 
termined on his course, and, muttering, ” Well, there’s no help for 
it, 1 suppose,” he turned to Lady Lombard and began, in a tone of 
deep xjoncern: 

” I have a most disagreeable duty to perform, and must beg you 
to believe that nothing but absolute necessity should have induced 
me to mention the matter; but i have remonstrated with his high- 
ness without efitect, and 1 dare go no further— he is subject to im sL 
violent fits of passion, and becomes dangerous when opposed. He 
drew his dagger and attempted to stab me only yesterday, because 
1 interfered lo prevent his having one of the waiters of the hotel 
strangled with a bowstring.” 

Lady Lombard turned pale on receiving this information, while 
Bracv coulinued: 

‘‘It is most unfortunate, but the prince has been so much de- 
lighted with this young lady’s charming flow ot conversation that, 
in ignorance of the customs ot this country, he has actually com- 


LKVriS AKUXDEL. 69 

Diissioned me to offer you £500 for her, and declared his intention 
of taking her home with him.” 

The effect of this communication may be “ better conceived than 
described.” Miss^Peyton, aware of the true stale ol affairs, hid her 
face in her handkerchief in an uncontrollable lit of laughter; Lewis, 
sorely tempted to follow her example, bent over his plate till the 
flowing tassel of the fez concealed his features; Frere, excessively 
annoyed at the false imputation, all but began a flat denial of the 
charge in somewhat forcible English, but remembering his assumed 
character just in time, clinched his fist, and ground his teeth with 
impatience, while Lady Lombard, observing these gestures and con- 
struing them into indications ot an approachino: burst of fur 3 % was 
nearly swooning with terror, when a note was put into her bands by 
a servant; hastily casting her eyes over it, she handed it to Biacy, 
saying; 

“ This is most fortunate; it may serve to divert his attention.” 

As lie became aware of its contents his countenance fell, and 
holding it so that Frere might read it, he whispered: 

” Here’s a treat! we are in for it now and no mistake!” 

The note ran as follows: 

” Dr. , Persian Professor at Addiscombe, presents his com- 

pliments to Lady Lombard, and begs to inform her that, being only 
in. town for a few hours, and learning at Mivart’s Hotel that his 
Highness, Princ€ Mustapha Ali, was spending the evening at her 
house, he has ventured to intrude upon her uninvited, as he is most 
anxious to renew his acciuaiiitance with the prince, whom he had 
the honor to know in Persia.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

TOM BUACY MEETS HiS MATCH. 

The position in which we left Lewis and his friends at the con- 
clusion of the preceding chapter was decidedly more peculiar than 
pleasant, and would afford uo bad illustratiou of the Ameiican ex- 
pression, ” a pretty tall fix.” Bracy, the feitiie in expedients, was 
the first to hazard a suggestion, which he did by whispering to 
Frere, ” \ou had better he taken suddenly ill: 1 shall sav you have 
had too much tongue (if you have not, 1 have), and that it has dis- 
agreed with you.” 

” Wait a bit,” returned Frere, “you have seen the real prince. 
Iiaven’t you?” 

Bracy nodded his assent, and Frere continued, “ He’s something 
like me, is he not?” 

“ Belter looking,” was the uncomplimentary rejoinder. 

“ Well, never mind that,” resumed Frere, “ i don’t set up for a 
beauty, but if 1 am sufficiently like to pass for him, 1 might con- 
trive to humbug the fellow for a few minutes, and then we could 
manage to slip away quietly without any shindy at all.” 

“You can try it on if you choose, but he is safe to find 3 mu 
out unless he is a perfect fool, and that is too great a merc 3 " to hope 


70 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


for,” retiiined Bracy dejectedly. “It the worst comes to the 
worst, pretend to pick a quarrel with him, draw your carving knife 
and make a poke at him; then Arundel and 1 will bundle him out 
of the ro(un bodily and swear we are doing it to save his life. 1 can 
see nothing e’se for it, tor there go the women, and, by Jove, here’s 
the learned pundit himself. Oh! isn’t he pretty to look at? Why, 
heisatac-simileof the picture in the old editions of ‘ Gay’s Fables ’ 
of the ‘ Monkey who had seen the World.’ ” 

While this dialogue was proceeding, Lady Lombard, having 
gathered the ladies under her wing, had marched them off to the 
drawing-room. Miss Peyton finding an opportunity as she passed 
Lewis to say, in German, “ Tell your prince that when 1 sell my- 
self 1 shall want a great deal more than £500.” 

” In fact, that your value is quite inestimable,” returned Lewis. 

” Exactly so,” was the reply. ” i am glad you have sufficient 
penetration to have found it out already.” 

The description given by Bracy of the doctor’s outward man vras 
by no means inapt. His hair and wdiiskers were gray, and, still 
ndheiing to the fashions of his younger days, he wore powder and 
a pig-tail. Eis dress consisted of a black single-breasted coat, with 
a stand-up collar, knee breeches, and siik stockinjre; a profusion of 
shirt trill rushed impetuously out of the front ot his waistcoat, a 
stiff white neckcloth appeared thoroughly to deserve the j ppella- 
tion of “choker,” which Bracy applied to it, while a shirt-collar, 
starched to a pitch of savage harshness, invaded the region ot his 
checks to an exieut which rendered the tract ot country lying be- 
tween Iho ears and the corners of the mouth a complete terra hicog- 
nita. Constant study of the Eastern hieroglyphics had probably 
made bis wearing spectacles a matter of necessity; at all events, a 
huge pair, in a broad tortoise-shell setting, garnished his nose 
which, truth compels us to confess, was more than slightly red, in 
wbich particular it afforded a decided contrast to his general com- 
plexion, which was, we say it distinctly and without compromise, 
yellow. 

To this gentleman, who entered with a hasty step, and glanced 
round him with a quick, abrupt, and rather startling manner, did 
Bracy address hiniselt with much empressement. 

“ My dear sir, this is most fortunate; the prince is quite delighted 
at the rencontre, but you must expect to find his highness greatl}'* 
altered. The cares of life, my dear sir, the anxieties attending — 
ah! I see you are impatient; I won’t detain you, but 1 wished to 
warn you that if you should perceive any great change in his ap- 
pearance you must not be surprised, ana above all, be careful not 
to show it by your manner; you have no idea how sensitive he is 
on the point; quite morbidly so, really. Don’t let me detain you— 
how well you are looking?” 

A good deal of pantomimic action had accompanied the delivery 
of this speech, the doctor being engaged in making vain and futile 
attempts to get past his persecutor, who on his part continued, with 
an affectation of the deepest respect, constantly and with the utmost 
perseverance to frustrate them. TIjc concluding words of his ad- 
dress, how^ever, elicited the following rejoinder spoken in a quick, 
cross manner : 


LEWIS ARUJSiDEL^ 71 

“You have the advantage of me, sir, for 1 do not remember ever 
setting eyes on you before in my life. 1 never forget a face 1 have 
once seen.’’ 

“ Confound his memory P’ thought Brccy, “ Frere won’t have a 
chance with him;’’ he only said, however, “ You are right, doctor; 
the fact of your looking well is so self-evident that 1 ventured to re- 
mark it, without having any previous data to go upon— but, here is 
his highness,” and as he spoke, he at length moved on one side and 
allowed the man of learning to pass. 

Frere coming forward at the same minute, Bracy whispered, 
while the doctor bent in a low salaam: 

“ I have bothered his brains sweetly for him, so that he hardly 
Knows whether he’s standing on his head oi his heels; so now you 
must take care of yourself, and joy go with you.” 

Frere, thus apostrophized, returned the doctor’s salute with much 
cordiality, and, Bracy, feigning some excuse, left them tu entertain 
each other, having before his eyes a wholesome dread of the new- 
comer’s addressing him in Persian, and thereby discovering his de- 
plorable ignorance of that interesting language. 

Time, which does not stand still for princes any more than for 
private individuals, passed on with its usual rapidity. Most of the 
gentlemen having eaten as much and drunk probably (looking at it 
in a medical point of view) more than was good for them, had re- 
joined the ladies, and it became evident to Bracy that a crisis in his 
evening’s amusement was approaching. On his return to the draw- 
ing-room he must, of course, resume his duties as interpreter, and 
this inconvenient Persian professor would inevitably discover tiie 
imposture. This was tire more provoking, as Frere’s likeness to the 
prince must evidently have been stronger than he had imagined, 
and his acquaintance with the rules of Persian etiquette more ex- 
tensive than he had believed possible, for the doctor continued to 
converse with the utmost gravity, and appeared to believe in him 
implicitly. While he was still pondering the matter in his anxious 
mind, the few last remaining guests conveyed themselves away, and 
tire prince and his party were left to dispute possession of the sup- 
per-room with empty champagne bottles and half-tipsy waiters. 
Frere, when he perceived this to be the case, beckoned Bracy to ap- 
proach, and as soon as he was within ear-shot, whispered: 

“ i have humbugged the old fellow beautifully on tire score of 
our Persian recollections, but he has just been questioning me 
about you — where you acquired your knowledge of the language, 
whether you have teen much in the East, how 1 became acquainted 
witli you, and all the rest of it. 1 put him ofi with lies as Jong as 
1 could, but it would not do, and as a last resource 1 have been ob- 
liged to refer him to you.” 

“ The deuce you have!” was the reply; “ that is pleasant. He’ll 
be jabbeiing liis confounded Jingo and 1 shall not understand a 
word he says to me; besides, my jargon won’t go down with him, 
you know. 1 tell you what, 1 shall be oft, and"^you must say up- 
stairs (lie can interpret for you) that 1 have been s nt for by the 
prime minister, at a minute’s notice, d la He Grandeville.” 

“ ’Tis too late,” replied Frere; and at the same instant the doctor 
seized Bracy by the button, and in a stern and impressive manner 


7’^ ^E^VIS ARUNDEL. 

asked some apparently searching question in Persian. Few men 
hart enjoyed the delight of seeing Tom Bracy in the unenviable 
frame of mind expressed by the nautical term “ taken aback,” but 
of that favored few, were the bystandeis on the present occasion; 
never was an unhappy individual more thoroughly and completely 
at a loss; and, il must be confessed, the situation was an embarrass- 
ing one. To be addressed by an elderly stranger in an unintelligi- 
ble language, in which you are expected to reply, wdille, at the same 
lime, you me painfully conscious that your incapacity to do so, or 
even (not understanding the question) lo give an appropriate reply 
in your native tongue, will lead to a discovery you are most anxious 
to avert, is an undeniably awkward position in whicli to be placed. 
That Bracy found it so was most evident, foi he fidgeted, stam- 
mered, glanced appealingly toward Frere tor aid, and at last was 
obliged between annoyance and an intense appreciation of the ab- 
surdity of his situation, to get up a fictitious cough, which, i^Titat- 
ing the membrane of the nose, produced a most violent, genuine 
sneeze. From the effects of this convulsion of nature he was re- 
lieved by a violent slap on the back, while at the same moment the 
tones of a familiar voice exclaimed in his ear: 

“ Sold, by all that’s glorious! Braoy, my boy, how do yon find 
yourself?” and on looking up he recognized in ihe laughing face of 
the Addiscombe doctor, now divested of its spectacles, the well- 
known features of Charley Leicesler. 

” Yes, laugh away,” growled tlie victimized practical joker; ” it’s 
all very funn^y, 1 dare say. but 6i2e thing I’ll sw^ear in any court of 
justice, which is that you bai^e been talking real Pevsian, at least if 
what Frere jabbers is real Persian.” 

” Of course 1 have,” returned Leicester, still in convulsions. 
” When Frere and 1 planned this dodge we kuew^ wliat a wide- 
awake gentleman we had to deal with, and took our measures ac- 
cordingly. 1 learned four Persian sentences by heart from his dic- 
tation, and pretty good use i have made of them too, 1 think.” 

” It was not a bad idea, really,” observed Bracy, who, having 
got over bis annoyance at the fii’st sense of defeat, instantly re- 
covered his good humor. ” flow well you are made up! 1 did not 
recognize you one bit, till you pulled off tire barnacles.” 

” Ves, 1 got little Stevens, who does the light comic business at 
one of the minors, to pi’ovide the apparel, and come and dress me- 
1 hope you admire my complexion; lie laid on the red and yeilow' 
most unsparingly.” 

” He bfs done it vastly well,” returned Bracy. “I shall culti- 
vate that small man; lie may be extremely usetul to me on an oc- 
casion.” 

” ]Now we ought to be going upstairs,” interrupted Frere: ” these 
waiter fellows are begiuning to stare at us suspiciously too. 1 say, 
Bracy, cut it short, man; we have had all the fun now\ and I’m 
getting tired of the thing.” 

” la, Meinheer,” rejoined Bracy aloud, adding in a lower tone, 
” The slaveys will swallow that or anything else for Persian; they 
are all more oi less drunk, by the fishy expression of their optics.” 

Laura Peyton was astonished somewhat later in the evening by 
the Addiscombe professor leaning over the back of the sofa on 


LEWIb AUUJS^DEL. 


i O 

which she was seated, and asking whelher she had enjoyed her last 
valse at Almack’s, the evening before last. 

“ Purely, you can feel no particfilar interest about such a frivo- 
lous and uninlellectual matter, sir,’’ was her reply. 

“ 1 was about to follow up the inquiry by asking whether your 
partner made himself agreeable.' 

“ To which I shall reply after the Irish fashion, by asking what 
it can possibly concern you to know, sir?” 

“Merely because I have the honor of the gentleman’s acquaint- 
ance.” 

“ That in fact 3^011 are one of those Uncommon characters wlio 
know themselves,” returned Laura, with an arch smile; “is not 
that what you wish to impress upon me, Mr. Leicester^” 

Charley laughed, then continued, in a lo\ver tone, “ 1 saw you 
knew me. Uid your own acuteness lead to the discovery, or are 
there traitors among us?” 

“ Your friend Mr. Arundel’s expressive features let me into the 
secret of his acquaintance with the English language before we 
went down to supper; but 1 entered into a contract not to betray 
the plot, if he would tell me all 1 wished to know about it, so the 
moment he came up I made him inform me who you were. What 
a gentlemanly, agreeable person he is.” 

As she said this a slight shade passed across Leicester’s good- 
natured ^countenance, and he replied, more quickly than was hia 
wont : 

“ 1 have fancied ]\Iiss Peyton superior to the common feminine 
weakness of being caught by the last new face.” 

“ What a thoroughly man-WiiQ speech,” returned the young lady. 
“Did 1 say anytliing about his appearance, sir? Do you suppose 
we poor women are so ulterl^^ sill}^ that we can appreciate nothing 
but a handsome lace? Your professor’s disguise has imbued you 
with the Turkish belief that women have no souls.” 

“ISo one fortunate enough to be acquainted with Miss Peyton 
would continue long in such a heresy,” replied Leicester, with the 
air of a man who tiiinks he is saying a good thing. 

“ Yes, I knew 3^011 would make some such~reply,” returned 
Laura, “ You first show your real opinion of women by libeling 
the whole sex, and then try to get out of the scrape by insulting my 
understanding with a personal compliment. Wait,” she continued, 
seeing he was about to defend himself, “ 3^011 must not talk to me 
any more now, or you will excite Lady Lombard’s suspicions, and 
betray the whole conspilac3^ Go away and send my new friend, 
Ml. Arundel Hassau Ley, here; Lady Lombard committed him to 
nyy charge, and 1 w’ant to cultivate him.” 

Leicester tried to assume a languishing look, which he was in the 
habit of practicing upon young ladies ivith great success, but be- 
coming suddenly conscious of the wig and spectacles, and gathering 
from Laura’s silverv laugh that such adjuncts to an interesting ex- 
pressioi of countenance wera incongruous, not to say absurd, he 
joined in her merriment, then added: “ You are in a very wicked 
mood to-night. Miss Peyton; but 1 suppose 1 must e’en do as 3"ou 
bid me, and reserve my revenge till some moie fitting opportunity 
then, mixing with the crowd, he sought out Lewis and delivered the 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


74 

young lady’s message to him, adding, in his usual drawling tone, 
“ You have made a what-do-ye-call it— an impression in that quar- 
ter. TV omen always run after the last new face.” 

“ Yon art right,” returned Lewis, with a degree ot energy which 
startled his listless companion, ” and those nip are wisest who know 
them tor the toys they are, and avoid them.” 

Leicester gazed after his retreating figure in astonishment, then 
murmured to himself: 

” ’What’s in the wind now, 1 wonder? Is the good youth trying 
to keep up the Asiatic character, or suddenly turned woman-hater? 
Confound that little Peyton girl, how sharp she was to-night I” 

‘‘ How very well Mr. Leicester is disguised,” observed Laura 
Peyton to Lewis, after they had conversed in German for some min- 
utes on general subjects. 

“Yes,” replied Lewis; ‘‘ though 1 can’t say his appearance is 
improved by the alteration.” 

‘‘ A fact of which he is fully aware,” returned Laura, smiling. 

A pause ensued, which terminated by Laura’s asking abruptly. 
‘‘ Do gentlemen like Mr. Leicester?” 

” lieally 1 have not sufficient knowledge of facts to inform you, 
but I should say he is a very popular man.” 

” Popular man! 1 hate that phrase,” returned his companion pet- 
tishly; ” it is almost as bad as describing any one as a man abDut 
town, which always gives me the idea of a creature that wears a pea- 
jacket, lives at a club, boards on cigars, talks slang, carries abetting 
book, and never has its hair cut— can’t you tell me what you think 
of Mr. Leicester yourself?” 

'* Well, 1 think him gentlemanly, good-natured, agreeable up to 
a certain point, cleverish — ” 

” Yes, that will do; 1 quite understand. 1 don’t think you do 
him justice— he has a kind heart, and more good sense than you are 
disposed to give him credit for. "You should not form such hasty 
judgments of people; a want of charity, I perceive, is one of ^=our 
faults. And now 1 must wish you good-night; 1 hear my kind old 
chaperon anxiously bUating after me in the distance.” 

So sa3dng, she arose, and hastened to put herself under tne pro- 
tection of ” a fine old English gentlewoman,” who, with a hooked 
nose, red gown, and green scarf, looked like some new and tearful 
variety of the genus Paroquet. At the same time Bracy summoned 
Lewis to join the prince, who was about to depart, which, alter 
Lady Lombard had, in an enthusiasm of gratitude, uttered a whole 
sentence in the largest capitals, he was allowed to do. 

Leicester accompanied them, tearing himself away from Professor 
Malchapeau, who had singled him out as a brother samnty and com- 
menced raconte~m^ to him his affecting history, thereby leaving that 
shaggy little child ot misfortune to lament to his sympathizing 
hostess the melancholy fact that ” zie Professor Addiscombe had 
cut his little tale off short, and transported himself aw^ay in von 
great dispatch.” 

’Twere long to tell the jokes that were made, the new and addi- 
tional matter brought to light, as each of the quartet, assembled 
round a second edition ot supper in Bracy’s rooms, detailed in turn 
his own personal experiences of the evening’s comicalities— the 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


75 


cigars that were smoked, or the amount ot sherry cobbler that was 
imbibed: suffice it to say that a certain lyrical declaration that they 
would not “ go home till morning,’’ to which, during tlieir sytnpo- 
siunj, tlrey had committed themselves, was verified when, on issuing 
out into the street, the cold gray light ot early dawn threw its pa^e 
tint over their wearied taces, and struggled with sickly-looking gas- 
lamps for the honor ot illuminating the thoroughfares of the sleep- 
ing city. 

Leicester’s cab, with his night-horse— a useful animal which, with- 
out a leg to stand upon, possessed the speed of the wind, and, hav- 
ing every defect horse-flesh is heir to, enjoyed a constitution which 
throve on exposure and want of sleep, as other organizations usually 
do on the exact opposites, was in 'waiting. Into this vehicle Leices- 
ter, having made iw^o bad shots at the step, rushed headlong, and 
drove ofl nt an insane pace, and in a succession of zig-zags. 

Frere and Lewis watched the cab till, having slightly assaulted 
an unoffending lamp post, it flew round a corner and disappeared; 
then, having exchanged a significant glance suggestive of sympa- 
thetic anticipations of a somber character in regard to the safe ar- 
rival of tlieii friend, they started at a brisk pace, which soon brought 
them to Frere’s respectable dwelling. While the proprietor was 
searching in every pocket but the right one for that terror of all 
feeble-minded elders, that pet abomination ot all fathers of families, 
that latest invention of the enemy of mankind — a latch-key, they 
'were accosted by a lad of about fifteen, whose ragged clothes, 
bronzed features, and Murillo- like appeaiance accorded well with 
his suppliDalioQ. “ Per pietdy dgnov, denaro per uyi powP ItalianoP 

Frere looked at him atttutivM 3 % then exclaimed: “1 tell you 
what, boy, it won't do, yon’re no more an Italian than 1 am; you 
should not try to impose upon people.” 

The boy hung down his head, and then replied doggedly, “ It’s 
your own fault: you’ll let an English boy starve in the streets be- 
fore you’ll give him a bit of bread, but .you are charitable enough to 
them loreign blackguards.” 

“That’s not line,” replied Frere; “however, liar or not, ,you 
must be ftd, 1 suppose, so if you choose to take a soup-ticket here’s 
one for you.” 

“ No,” returned the boy proudly, “ you have cafled me a liar, and 
1 won’t accept your miserable bounty; I’d sooner starve fiist.” 

“ As you please,” returned Frere, coolly, pocketing the rejected 
ticket; “ now have the goodness to take yourself ofi. Come, 
Lewis.” 

“ I’ll join you immediately,” replied Lewis. 

“ Mind 5011 shut ihe door after yon then,” continued Frere, “ or 
we shall have that nice lad 'w^alking off with the silver spoons.” So 
saying, he entered the house. 

Lewis waited till his retreating footsteps were no longer audible; 
then, fixing his piercing glance upon the boy, he said in an impress- 
ive voice, “ Answer me truly and 1 will give you assistance. AYhere 
did you learn to speak Iialian with so good an accent?” 

” In Naples, sir!” 

“ How did 3 mu get there?” 

” 1 served on board a man-of-war.” 


AHl-NDEL. 


“ Aud how have you la lien into this state of heg^arv?” 

The boy nesitaled for a moment, but somelhing led him instinct- 
ively lo feel that his confidence would not be abused, and he an- 
swered: “ When we got back to England, and the crew were paid 
oil, I received £15. 1 got into bad company; tliey tempted me to 

everything that was wrong; my money was soon gone; 1 had no 
friends in London, and 1 wouldn’t liave applied to them after going 
on as bad as 1 had been if 1 iiad. 1 sold my clothes to buy bread; 
and when 1 had nothing left 1 begged, and lately I’ve passed m3^selt 
oft as an Italian boy, because ] found people more willing to give 
me.” 

” And do you like your present life?” 

“ No: I have to bear cold and hunger; and when people spcjak to 
me as did just now, it makes me feel wicked. Some day it will 
drive me mad, and 1 shall injure somebody.” 

“ What do you wish to do tlien?” 

“ If 1 could get some decent clothes I’d walk down to Portsmouth 
and try and get afloat again.” 

“ And what would it cost to provide them?” 

“ 1 could rig myself out for a pound.” 

Lewis paused for a moment, then added quickly, ” Boy, 1 am 
poor and proud as you are; therefore 1 can feel for you. Had 1 
been exposed to temptation, friendless, and untaught, 1 might have 
fallen as you have done. You have learned a bitter lesson, and may 
pwofil by it; it is in my power to afford you a chance ot doing so.” 

He drew a card from his pocke^ and wrote upon it a few words 
in pencil; then, handing it to the boy, continued, ‘‘ There is the 
(lircciiou to a friend of mine, the captain of a ship about to sail in a 
few days; show him my card, and tell him what you have told me. 
There is a soveieign to provide your dress, and five shillings to save 
you from bagging or stealing till jmu get to Portsmouth; and when 
next you are tempted to sin, remember its bitter fruits.” 

As he spoke he gave him the money. The boy received it mechan- 
ically, fixed bis bright eyes for a moment on the face of his bene 
factor, and Then, utierly overcome by such unexpected kindness, 
hurst into a flood of tears. As Lewis turned to depart, the first 
lays of the rising sun fell upon the tall, graceful figure of the young 
man ana the tattered garments and emaciated form ot the boy. 

Far different was the scene when Lewis Arundel and tlie creat- 
ure be w^as thus rescuing from infamy met again upon the Rail- 
road OF Life. 


CHAPTER Xll. 

IS CHIEFliY IIORTICULTUItAI., SIIOWING THE EFFECTS PRODUCED 
RY TRAINING UPON A SWEET AND DELICATE ROSE. 

Rose Arundel sat at the open window ot her little bedroom, 
and gazed out into the night. The scent of many flowers hung 
upon the loaded air, and the calm stars looked dowui from heaven, 
contrasting their impressive grandeur with the unrest of this weary 
woild. The evening had been lovely; not a breath of wind was 
stirring, the long shtidows that slept upon the smooth greensw^ard, 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


7 ? 


and afTordecl a dark background on which tlie brilliant glow-worms 
sJione like diamonds on a funeral pail, were motionless; the silence, 
unbroken save when some lieavy beetle or (»lher strange insect of 
the night winged its drowsy way across the casement, was almost 
oppressive in its stiPness; it was a time and place for grave and 
earnest thought, a scene in which the full heart is conscious of its 
own sorrow. And Rose, although she had too much good sense and 
right principle to allow herself to feel miserable, was far from 
happy. The key to the inner life of every true-hearted woman must 
be sought in the affections;— the only two people whom Ro^e had 
loved, as she was capable of loving, were her father and brother; 
for Mrs. Arundel, though all her impulses were kind and amiable, 
did not possess suffloient depth of character to inspii’e any v^ ry 
strong attachment. Between Captain Arundel and his daughter had 
existed one of those rare affections which appear so nearly to satisfy 
the cravings of oar spiritual nature, that, lest this world should be- 
come too dear to us, they are blessings we are seldom permitted 
long to enjoy. Rose and her father were, by nature, much alike in 
disposition, "and in forming her character and educating and develop- 
ing her mind, he had for some years found his chief interest, while 
in her affection lay his only solace for the blighted hopes and ruined 
prospects of a life-time. 

Originally highly connected, Captain Arundel had incurred the 
displeasure of his family by forming, in the heat of youthful pas- 
sion and under peculiar circumstances, a marriage with the daugh- 
ter of an English resident at Marseilles, by a foreign mother. Too 
proud to seek to conciliate his relations, Mr. Arundel became a vol- 
untary exile, entered into tlie Austrian army, where he speedily rose 
to the rank of captain, and served with much distinction, till failing 
health induced him to resign his commission and return to England 
tor the sake of educating his children. His heart was set on one 
object, namely, to bestow upon his son the education of an English 
gentleman, and for this purpose he had availed himself of a very 
unusual talent for painting as a means by which he miglit increase 
Ills slender income sufRcienlly to meet the expenses of lending 
Lewis to Westminster, and afterward to a German university. The 
constant application thus rendered inevitable fostered the seeds of 
that most insidious of all ailments, a heart disease, and w^hile still 
forming plans for the welfare of his family, an unwonted agitation 
induced a paroxysm of his complaint, and ere Rose could realize 
the misfortune that threatened her, she was fatherless. 

Although stunned at first by the unexpected shock, hers was not 
a mind to give way at such a moment, and to those who judge by 
the outward expression only Mrs. Arundel’s grief appeared much 
^inore intense than that of her daughter. But Rose’s soirow was not 
’'a mere transitory feeling, which a few w'eeks more or less might 
serve to dissipate, it had become part of her very nature, a thing too 
sacred to be lightly brought to view, but enshrined in the sanctuary 
of her pure heart it remained a cherished yet solemn recollection, 
which would shed its hallowing influence over the future of her 
young life. And now, as she sat with her calm earnest eyes up- 
turned to the glorious heaven above her, her thoughts wandered 
back to him slie had so dearly loved^ and she pondered the solemn 


78 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


questions which have ere now presented themselves to many a 
mourning spirit, and ionged to penetrate the secrets ot the grave, 
and learn things which death alone shall teach us. Tlien sne re- 
called conversations she liad held with him that was gone on these 
very subjects, and remembered how he had said that the things 
which God had not seen lit to reveal could neither be needtul nor 
expedient tor us to know; and that such speculal ions were in them- 
selves dangerous, inasmuch as they tended to lead us to torm the- 
ories which, having no warrant in Scripture, might be at variance 
with truth: and that it \\as better to wait patently in humble faith — 
that a time \V()uld come when we should no longer see through a 
glass darkly, and the hidden things of God should be made known 
unto us. Ihen her thoughts, still pursuing the same train, led her 
to reflect how all her lather’s aspirations, cruslud and disappointed 
in the wreck of his own fortunes, had centered in his son, and the 
bitter tears, which no personal privations or misfortunes could have 
forced from her, flowed down her cheeks a» she reflected how these 
bright anticipations seemed doomed never to be realized. 

Unselfish by nature, and trained to habits ot thoughtfulness by 
witnessing her father’s life of daily self sacrifice. Rose bad never 
been accustomed to indulge on her own account in those day- 
dicams so common to the sanguine mind ot youth. But the germs 
of that pride and ambition wliicii weie Lewis’s besetting sins existed 
in a minor degree in Rose’s disposition also, and found vent in a 
visionary career of greatness she bad marked out for her brother, 
and for which bis unusual mental powers and striking aopeatance 
seemed eminently to qualify him. In nourislii ig these visions her 
father had unconsciously assisted, when in moments ot confidence 
he had imparted to her his hopes that Lewis would distinguish him- 
self in whatever career of life he might select, and by his success 
restore them all to that position in society which by his own impru- 
dence he had forfeited. a bitter contrast did the reality now 

present! Rose bad received that morning a letter from her brother, 
detailing his intei'^iew with General Grant, and its results; and 
though, from a wish to spare her feelings, he had been more guariled 
ot his expressions than on the occasion ot his conversation wdth 
P'rere the preceding day, yet he did not attempt to disguise from 
her his repugnance to the arrangement, or the degradation to wliich 
his haughty spirit led him to consider he was submitting. 

“ Poor Lewis!” murmui'ed Rose. ” 1 know so well what misery 
it will he to him; the slights, the hourly petty annoyances which 
bis proud sensitive nature will feel so keenly —and then, to w'aste 
his high talents, iris energy of character and strength of will, on the 
drudgery of teaching when they w'ere certain to have led him to 
distinction if he had only had a fair held for their exercise — it 
would have bioken dearest papa’s heart, when he had hoped so dif-* 
ferently for him. But if he had lived this never would have been 
so; he often told me he had influential friends, and though lie never 
would apply to them on his own account, he declared he would do 
so when Lewis should become old enough to enter into life. 1 
wonder wiio they were, lie never liked to talk on those subjects, 
and 1 was afraid ot paining him by inquiring. 1 am glad there is 
a Miss Giant; 1 hope she may prove a nice girl and will like Lewis; 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


79 


but of course she will— 'every one must do that, ph! how 1 hope 
they will treat him kindly and geaerously— it will all depend upon 
that. Poor fellow! with his impulsive disposition and quick sense 
of wrong, his fiery temper too, how will he get onV And it is for 
our sakes he does all this, sacrificing his freedom and his hopes of 
winning himsell a name— how good and noble it is of him!'" 

She paused, and, leaning tier brow upon her little white hand, sat 
buried in deep thought. At length she spoke again; 

“ If 1 could do anything to earn money and help I should be so 
much happier. Poor papa got a good dtal lately for his pictures; 
but they were so clever, Lewis can sketch beautifully, but my 
drawings are so tame. 1 wonder whether people would buy poetry. 
1 wish 1 knew whether my verses are good enough to induce any 
one to purchase them. Dearest papa praised those lines of mine 
which he accidentally found one day. Of course he was a good 
judge, only perhaps he liked them because they were mine.” And 
the tears roiled silently down her pale cheeks as memory brought 
before her the glance of bright and surprised approval, the warm 
yet judicious praise, the tender criticism— words, looks, and tones 
of love now lost to her forever, which the acciden'al discovery of 
her verses had drawn forth. VVith an aching heart she closed the 
casement, and, lighting a candle, proceeded to unlock a small writ- 
ing-desk, from whence she drew some manuscript verses, which 
lan as follows: 

THE preacher’s ADDRESS TO THE SOUL. 

Weary soul. 

Why dost thou still disquiet 

Thyself with senseless riol. 

Taking thy fill and measure 
Of earthly pleasure? 

The things that thou dost prize 
Are not realities; 

All is but seeming. 

Waking, thou still liest dreaming. 

That which before thine eye 

Now passeth, or hath past. 

Is naught but vanity — 

It can not last. 

This evil w^orld, be sure, 

Shall not endure, 

Alt thou a- weary. Soul, and dost thou cry 

For rest? Wait, and thou soon shalt have 
Thai thou dost crave, 

For Death zs z^eal—ihe Grave no mockery. 


the soul’s reply. 

Preacher, too dark thy mood ; 
God made this earth — 

At its primeval birth 
” God saw that it was good.” 


80 


LEWIS AKLNLEL. 


And if through Adam’s sin 
Death entered in, 

Hath not Clirist died to save 
Me from the grave? 

Repented sins for His sake are forgiven — 

There is a heaven. 

For that this earth is no abiding- place, 

Shah we displace 

The flowers that God hath scattered on our path: 

The kindly heart: 

The smile of love still brighten'ng as we come, 

Making the desert, home: 

The seventh day of rest, the poor man’s treasure 
Of holy leisure: 

Bright sunshine, happy birds, the joy of flowers? 

Ah, no! this earth of ours 

Was “ very good,” and hath its blessings still; 

And it we will, 

We may be happy. S&y, dark Preacher, why 

Should we then hate to live, or tear to die, 

With Love tor Time, Heaven for Eternity? 

Rose perused them attentively, sighed deeply, and then re^ 
sumed; 

“ Yes, he liked them, and said (1 remember his very words) there 
was more vigor anil purpose about them than in llie general run ot 
girlish verses. How could I find out whether they are worth any- 
thing?” She pasued in reflection; then, clasping her hands together 
suddenly, she exclaimed: 

“Yes, of course, Mr. Frere; he was so good and kind about the 
pictures, and Lewis says he is so very clever, he will tell me. But 
may not he think it strange and odd in me to write to him? Had I 
belter consult mamma?” 

But with the question came an instinctive consciousness that she 
was about the last person wdioni it w'ould be agreeable to consult on 
such an occasion. Rose, like every other woman possessing the 
slightest approach to the artist mind, felt a shrinking delicacy in 
regard to what the Brt)wning school would term her ‘‘ utterances,” 
which rendered the idea of showing them where they would not be 
appreciated exquisitely painful to her. Now Mrs. Arundel bad a dis- 
agreeable knack of occasionally brushing against a feeling so rudely 
as to cause the unlucky originator thereof to experience a mental 
twinge closely akin to the bodily sensation yclept toothache. 

It will therefore be no matter of surprise to the reader to learn 
that Rose, after mature deliberation, resolved to keep the fact of 
her having applied to Mr. Frere a secret, at all events till such a 
time as the result should become known to her. 

She accordingly selected such of her poetical effusions as she 
deemed most worthy, in the course ot which process she stumbled 
upon a short prose sketch, the only thing of the sort she had ever 
attempted, it being, in tact, a lively account of her first appearance 
at a dinner-party, written for the benefit of a young lady friend, but 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


81 


for some reason never sent. Tins, after looking at a page or two, 
sRe was about to condemn as nonsense; but an idea came acioss 
her, that if Mr. Frere was to form a just estimate of her powers, it 
was scarcely fair to select only the best things; so she popped in 
the sketch of the dinner-party as a kind of destitution test, to show 
how badly she could write. 

Then came the most difficult part of the business— the letter to 
Frere; true, she had written to him before, acting as her father’s 
amanuensis, but that was a different sort of thing altogether. Still 
it must be done, and Rose was not a person to be deterred by diffi- 
culties; so she took a sheet of paper, and wrote “ Sir at the top 
of it, and having done so, sat and looked at it till she became in- 
tensely dissatisfied. “ Sir '’—it seemed so cold and uncomfortable; 
so she took a second sheet and wrote “ Dear Sir!” Yes, that was 
better decidedly. She only hoped it was not too familiar in writing 
to a young man; but then, Mr. Frere was not exactly a young man; 
he was a great deal older than Lewis; above thirty, most likely; 
and three or four-and* thirty was quite Iniddle-aged; so the “ Dear 
Sir ” was allowed to remain. 

“ Ce n'est que le premier 'pas que coute,” and having once started, 
it was not long before Rose’s nimble pen had covered two sides of 
the sheet of paper, and the following letter was the result: 

“ Dear Sir,— I know not how to offer any excuse for the trouble 
i am ab(»ut to give you otherwise than by explaining the reasons 
which have induced me to apply" to you ; and, as 1 know your time 
is valuable, 1 will do so as briefly as 1 can. Do not think me for- 
getful of or ungrateful for your great kindness to Lewis, when 1 
tell you that ever since 1 received my brother’s lei ter, informing me 
of his engagement as tutor to General Giant’s w’ard, 1 have felt mis- 
erable at the idea of his working hard at an occupation which 1 fear 
must be distasteful to him, in order to provide tor mamma and my- 
self the comforts we have hiiheito enjoyed. It is impossible to 
prevent this in any way, tor we tried to shake his determination, but 
in vain. Kow, 1 feel that I should be so much happier if 1 could 
assist, in evei so small a degree, in relieving him from this buirlen; 
and the only possible idea that occurs to me (for he will noc hear of 
my going out as governess) is that 1 might be able to earn some- 
thing by my pen. With this view i have ventured to inclose for 
your perusal a few verses wdiich 1 have w^ritten at odd times for 
my own amusement; and 1 trust to your kindness to tell me hon- 
estly whether they possess any merit or not. 1 dare not hope your 
opinion will be favorable; but if by possibility it should prove so, 
will you do me the additional kindness of advising nre what steps 
to take in order to get them published? 1 have never been in Lon- 
don, but 1 liave heard there are a good many booksellers who live 
there: and as 1 dare say you luiow^ them all, perhaps you would 
kindly tell me to which of them you would recommend me to ap- 
ply. 1 have not told mamma that 1 am writing, for, as 1 feel a 
presentiment that your answer will only piove to me the folly of the 
hopes I am so silly as to indulge, it is not worth while disturbing 
her about the matter. ,Once again thanking you for your cxlieme 
kindness to Lewis, and hoping that you will not consider me too 


82 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


troublesome in thus applying to you, believe me to remain your 
sincerely obliged Rose Arundel. 

“ P.S. — 1 have inclosed a little prose sketch with the verses, but 
\ ^tci quite sure you will not like that. Perhaps if Lewis has not 
left you when this arrives, you w\\\ be so very kind as not to say 
anything to him about it, as he would be sure to laugh at me.” 

When Rose had finished this epistle she felt that she had done 
something toward attaining the object she had at heart, and went 
to bed feeling more happj^ than she had done since the receipt of 
Lewis’s letter. Straightway falling asleep she dreamed that she 
was introduced to Mr. Murray, who offered her £100 to write a 
short biographical memoir of General Grant foi the ‘‘ Quarterly 
Re^'iew.” 


' CHAPTER XI 11. 

PRESENTS TOM BRACY IN A NEW AND INTERESTING ASPECT. 

Three days passed by, and still poor Rose received no answer to 
her letter, but remaiffed a prey to alternate hopes and fears and all 
” the gnawing tortures of an anxious mind;” on the fourth arrived 
the following characteristic note: 

” My dear Miss Arundel,— I dare say you’ve been abusing 
me like a pickpocket — at least, 1 must have appeared to you de 
serving of such abuse, for treating your request so cavalierly; but 
the tact is, 1 have been down in a Cornish mine for the last two 
days, and only received your packet on my arrival in town, an hour 
ago. And now to business. 1 don’t set up for a judge of poetry 
(though 1 know what pleases me and what doesn’t: 1 should be a 
donkey if 1 did not, you’ll say— tor instance, the present school of 

* suggestive ’ poetr}^ doesn’t suit me at alD; but then I have an old- 
fashioned prejudice in favor of understanding what 1 read, and 
calling a railway locomotive a ‘ resonant steam eagle' tor instance, 
does not tend to simplify literature; the only thing such phrases 

* suggest ’ to me is, that it would be a great deal better if the 
authors were content to stick to plain English, and when they have 
such inexpressibly grand ideas not to trouble themselves to express 
them at all. Your verses have at least one good point in them— 
they are so worded that a plain man may understand them; in 
fact, all that 1 have yet read i like — the feeling is invariably pure, 
true, and beautiful (3mur heart’s in the right place and no mistake): 
the language is well chosen and sometimes eloquent; there are, of 
course, occasionally places where it gets weak and young-lady like, 
but that was only to be expected. We can’t all be men, unfortun- 
ately. 1 could not help laughing when you ‘ supposed 1 knew ’ all 
the booksellers and publishers in London. Heaven forbid! for in 
that case 1 should have a very miscellaneous acquaintance. How- 
ever, 1 do know several, and 1 will go the first thing to-morrow 
morning and consult one of them — a gentleman on whose judgment 
I can rely as to what will be the most advisable course for us to 
pursue. 1 say us, because, as 1 don’t mean to let the matter rest till 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


83 


1 have succeeded, 1 consider myself a partner in the concern. 
Lewis parted from me in high healih and very tolerable spirits. Me 
Jeft town with General Grant the same morning on which 1 started 
for Cornwall. You shall hear from me again when 1 can report prog- 
ress. Don’t write any more nonsense about giving me trouble; in 
the first place, the thing is no trouble; in the second, 1 should not 
mind it one bit if it were. 1 am yours very truly, 

‘‘Richard Frere.*' 

Tlie first thing next morning Frere called upon his friend (he 
publisher, who, as soon as he understood that nothing beyond ad- 
vice was required of him, became very communicative and agree- 
able — glanced his eye over the vetses, and approved of them, though 
he added, with a Burleigh-like shake of the head, that he wished 
they were anything but poetry. Frere wondered why and a-ked 
him. In reply he learned that the public mind had acquired a 
sadly practical bias, which leading him to suggest that poetiy was the 
very thing of all others to bring it right again, he was further in- 
formed that the evil was much too deeply seated to be affected by 
so weak an application as the poetry of the present day; and the 
truth of this appearing undeniable, the subiect was dropped. 

“ The best thing for you to do with these MSS., Mr. Frere,’' 
continued his adviser, “ would be to get them inserted in some 
popul ir periodical.” 

‘‘ Well, 1 don’t -objeot,” returned Frere; ‘‘which liad 1 bettor 
send them to? There’s ‘ Gently’s Miscellany,’ and the ‘New 
Weekly,’ and ‘ Gainsworth’s Magazine,’ and half a. dozen more of 
’em.” ^ 

” What do you suppose would be the result of adopting such a 
line of conduct?” inquired his friend. 

‘‘ Why, as the things are in themselves good, they’d probably put 
’em in next month, and send a check for the amount, inclosed in a 
polite note asking for more.” 

” 1 tear not,” was the answer. ” A very promising young friend 
of mine sent a nicely wu*itlen paper to tlie least exclusive of the 
periodicals you have just mentioned; hearing nothing of it he vent- 
ured at the end of six months to write and inquire ils fate; in re- 
ply he received a note from the editor, which appeared to him more 
explicit than satisfactory. It was couched in the following laconic, 
terms: ‘ Declined with thanks.’ ” 

‘‘ Phew I that’s pleasant,” rejoined Frere. ‘‘Wbat would you 
advise then, under the circumstances? 1 place myself quite in your 
hands,” 

His friend leaned back in his chair and considered the matter 
deeply At length he seemed to have hit upon some expedient, for 
he muttered with great emphasis, ‘‘ Y‘es, that might do. He could 
if be would. Yes— certainly! ’ Then turning suddenly to Frere, 
he exclaimed: ‘‘ Mind, you’ll never breathe a word of it to any liv- 
ing b<‘ing!” 

‘‘ Not for the world,” returned Frere; ‘‘ and now, what is it?” 

*‘ Y’ou’ve heard of ‘ Blunt’s Magazine ’?” 

‘‘ Yes, Fveseen it in several places lately.” 

‘‘No doubt; it’s a most admirably conducted publication, and 


84 


LEWIS A HI XI) EL. 


OQe which is certain to become a great favorite with the public. 
Now 1 happen to be acquainted with one of the gentlemen wlio edit 
it, and shall be happ>' to give you a note of introduction to him; 
but 5^011 must promise me to be most careful never to reveal his 
name.” 

‘‘ Certainly,” rejoined Frere, ‘‘ it 5^011 wish it; but may 1 ask 
wliat it would sign iy if all Loudon knew it?” 

Mis companion turned upon him a look ot indignant surprise; 
but, perceiving that he inade the inquiry in honest simplicity of 
heart, his face assumed a loolv of contemptuous pity as he replied 
in a tone of voice one would use to a little ckiki who had inquired 
wliv it might not set light to a barrel ot gunpowder, ” My dear sir, 
you do not know —you can not conceive the consequences. Buch 
a thing w^ould be utterly impossible.” 

He then wrote a tew^ lines, wdiich he handed to Frere, saying, 
” lou will find him at home till eleven.” 

” And his mysterious name,” observed Frere, glancing at the ad- 
dress, “is? — eljl nonsense! — Thomas Bracy% Esq. Why, he is an 
intimate triend ot my own! That’s tanious. Oh! ITl have some 
tun with him— I’m sure iTn extremely obliged to ymu— good-morn- 
ing.” So saying, Frere seized bis hat, shouldered his umtrella, 
and hurried off, overjoyed at the discovery. 

The mendacious tiger ot whom we have already made honorable 
mention answered Piere’s inquiry as to whether his master was at 
home with a most decided and unequivocal negative, adding the 
gratuitous information that he had gone dowui to dine with his uncle 
at Hampstead the previous da}^ and was not expected home till four 
o’clock that afternoon. 

” Well, tliat’s a nuisance,” returned Frere. ” 1 tell you wdiat, 
bo}’’, ITl step in and write your master a note.” 

” Yes, sir. certain?^, if you please, sir; only we've been a-having 
the sw^eeps bin, and the place is hall in a huproai, so as it’s uupos- 
sibul to touch noth) Ilk.” 

At this moment a bell rang violently, and the boy, begging Frere 
to w ait, bounded up the stairs like a cal, returning almost immedi- 
atcl}^ with the information that “ he was weny sorry, but he’d just 
been to the green -grocer's, and while he was bout, master had come 
home quite promiscuous.” 

” And how about the soot?” asked F'rere, a light breaking in 
upon him. 

Please, sir, cook’s been and cleaned it hup while 1 were gone.” 

”1 thought so,” returned Frere; ” j^ou’ie a nice boy!” 4 hen, 
catching him by the collar of his jacket, he continued: “Tell me, 
3^011 young scamp, how often do you speak the truth?” 

The urchin, thus detected, glanced at FTere’s lace, and reading 
there that any attempt to keep up appearances must prove a dead 
failure, replied with the utmo.«<t sang f raid, “ Please, feir, whenever 
1 can’t tliink of nothink better.” 

“ There’s an answer!” returned Frere meditatively. “ Well, you 
need never learn swimming — water won’t harm you; bat mark m\' 
words, and beware of hemp.” So saying, he loosened his hold oii 
the bay’s collar, and followed him upstairs. 

The tiger, not having recognized Frere in his European habil- 


LEWIS ALUKDEL. 


85 


ments, had merely told his master that a gentleman wished 1o see 
jiim on business; and Bracv, wlio had reason to expect a visit from 
a certain literary don, had rushed into his dressing-room to ex- 
change a very ‘decidedly “fast’’ smoking jacket for the black 
frock-coat of editorial propriety; for which reason Frere was left 
to entertain himself for a few minutes with his own society. After 
examining sundry clever caricature sketches of Bracy's, which 
evinced a decided talent lor that branch of art, Frere seated himself 
in an easy-chair, in front of a writing -table, on which lay a mysteri- 
ous document, written in a bold dashing hand, which involuntarily 
attracted his attention. For the reader's edification, we will tran- 
scribe it: 


BlunVs Maganne, June, Sheets 3 and 4. 

Questions on Q;mcJcsilver 4 

The Homeless Heart {Stanzas, hy L. 0. V, E.) . 1 

Hist. Parallels, Ho. 3, {Cromicell & Coeur de-JAon). 7 

Hlneomyrise (by the Authoress of H Inconnve) . 6 

Hard work and, hard food; or. How would you ) 
like, it yourself? A flea for the industrial [- 5 

classes ) 

Dog-cart Drives {by the Editor), Chap. 10, “ i 
Spicy Scretc;'’ Chap. 11, Doing the Gov-^r 7 

ernor ” ) 

Wanted something light, abt 2 

The last item in this singular catalogue was written in pencil. 

“ Now I shouldJike to know what all that means,” soliloquized 
Frere; “ Something light about two? — a luncheon would come 
under that definition exactly — two whats? that's the question! Two 
pounds?— it would not be particularly light if it v/eighed as much 
as that. Perhaps the figures stand for money — the prices they pay 
for the mauazine articles, 1 dare say; 4—6—7; now, if they happen 
to he sovereigns, that wuli suit my young lady’s case very nicely. 
Ah ! here he comes. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XIY. 

CONTAINS A DISQUISITION ON MODERN POETRY, AND AFFORDS 
THE READER A PEEP BEHIND THE CURTAIN. 

The position in which Frere had placed himself prevented Brac}' 
from discerning his features as he entered, and hs accordingly ac- 
costed his visitor as follows: 

“ My dear sir, 1 am really distressed to have kept j^oii waiting, 
but as you airived I was just jotting down the result of a little flirt- 
ation with the Muse.” 

“ And this is it, 1 suppose?” observed Frere, turning his face to- 
ward the speaker and pointing to the document before alluded to. 

“Why, Frere! is it you, man?” exclaimed Bracy in surprise. 
“ As I’m a sinner, 1 took you for tliat learned elder, Dr. . 


86 


LEWIS AKUJ^DEL. 


My yoimg impudeDt told me you were a gentleman who wished to 
see me on particular business. If that juvenile devil takes to telling 
lies t4} instead ol for me, 1 shall have to give him his due for once, 
in the shape of a sound caning. ’’ 

“You may spare yourself the trouble,” returned Frere, “ as, 
by some accident, he has only spoken the truth Ibis time; for I. 
hope you don’t mean to insinuate that I am anything but a gentle- 
man, and 1 have most assuredly come to see you on business— that 
is, always supposing Mr. of Street has informed me cor- 

rectly in regard to your editorial functions.” 

‘ ^Vhat! has the cacoetlies scrihendi seized you also, and tempted 
you into the commission of some little act of light literature?” 
asked Bracy. 

“ Thank g( odness, no,” answered Frere; “I’m happy to say I’m 
not so far gone as all that comes to yet. Ko, this is a didercnt case 
altogether:” and then he proceeded to' intorm his companion of 
Rose’s application, and the necessity which existed to make her 
talents available for practical purposes. 

“ jVtagazine writing afloicls rather a shady prospect for realizing 
capital in these days,” observed Bracy, shaking his head dibcourfg- 
ingl 3 \ “Let’s look at the young lady’s interesting (fforts— have 
you ever seen her? Arundel’s sister ought to be prett}^ What’s 
this? ‘ The Preacher’s Address to the Soul.’ Why, it’s a sermon 
in rhyme — Ileaven help the girl! what’s she thinking of?” 

“ Read it and you’ll see. 1 like it very much,” returned Frere, 
slightly nettled at the reception his protegee's productions appeared 
likely to meet with. 

“Oh! it’s a sermon clearly,” continued Bracy; “here’s some- 
thing about vanity and the grave. 1 heard it all last {Saturday, at 
Bt. Chrysostom’s, only the fellow called it gmve and gw?ace. ile’d 
picked up some conscientious scruple against the use of the letter 
1 , 1 suppose. It’s quite wnmderful, all the new-langhd doctrines 
they discover nowadays. Hum— ha— ‘ Making the desert home ' 
—rather a young idea, ehV— ‘ Happy birds ’—don’t like that, it puts 
one too much in mind of ‘ jolly dogs,’ or ‘ odd fish.’ 1 should have 
said dickey birds if it liad been me; that’s a ver}^ safe expression, 
and one that people are accustomed to. ‘ The joy of flowers ’—what 
on earth does she mean by that now? 1 should say nobody could 
understand that— for which reason, by the way, it’s the bek thing 
I’ve seen yet. Poetry, to be admired in the present day, should be 
utterly incomprehensible. We insert very little, but that’s the rule 
1 go by; it i can’t understand one word of a thing, 1 make a point 
of accepting it; it’s safe to become popular. ‘Love for time. 
Heaven for eternity ’--well, that’s all very nice and pretty, but I’m 
sorry to say it won’t do; it’s not suited to the tone of the magazine, 
you see.” 

“ 1 can’t say 1 do see very clearly at present,” returned Frere: 
“ wdiat kind of poetry do you accept?” 

“ Oh, thue are di Qerent styles. Now here’s a little thing IVe 
got in the June part — ‘ The Homeless Heart, by L. O. V. E.’ Her 
real name is Mary Dobbs, but she couldn’t very well sign herself 
M. D. ; people v\ould think she w' as a physician. Bhe’s a very re* 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 87 

spectable younsj woman (such a girl to laugh) and engaged to an 
opulent stock-broker. Now listen : 

“ ‘ Homeless, forsaken, 

Deeply oppress’d, 

Having, yet craving, 

Agony’s rest; 

Bitterly hating, 

Fondly relenting, 

Sinning, yet winning 
Souls to repenting; 

When tor her sorrow 
Comes a to-morrow, 

Shall she be blessed?’ ” 

“ That’s a question 1 can’t lake upon myself to answer,'’ inter- 
rupted Frere: “ but if those are in the style you consider suited to 
the tone of your magazine it must be a very wonderful publication. ” 
“ 1 flatter myself it is rather,” replied Bracy complacently: ** but 
that’s by no means the only style— here’s a thing that will go down 
with the million sweetly. Listen to this;” and as he spoke he ex- 
tracted from a draiver a mighty bundle of papers labeled ” Accepted 
Poetry,” and, selecting one or two specimens from the mass, read 
as follows: 

'' ‘ THE COUNTESS EMMELINE’S DISDAINMENT. 

* Bitter-black, the winter’s whirlwind wail’d around the haunted 
hall, 

W here the sheeted snow that fleeted, fester’d on the molder’d wall . 

” ‘ But his blacker soul within him, childish calm appeared without, 
And when gazing, ’twas amazing, wherefore rose the skeptic 
doubt. 

** * Then her voice so silver-blended, to a trumpet-blast did grow, 
As she task’d him when she ask’d him, ‘ Mr. Johnson, is it so?’ 

‘ Ashen- white, the curdled traitor paled before her eagle eye. 
Whilst denying in replying, deeper grew his periury.’ ” 

” There! 1 can’t stand anymore of that at any price!” exclaimed 
Frere, putting his hands to his ears; ” unless y^u wish to make me 
seriously ill, spare me the infliction of those detestable compound 
adjectives.” 

“My dear fellow, you’ve no taste,” returned Bracy. “Why, 
that’s written by one of our best contributors; an individual that 
will make Tennyson look to his laurels and do the Browmings 
brown, one of these days. But if that’s too grand tor you, here’s a 
little bit of pastoral simplicity may suit you better: 

“ ‘ TO A HEllBLET, NAME UNKNOW'N. 

“ ‘ Once upon a holiday. 

Sing heigho! 

Still with sportive fancy playing. 

While all nature was a-iuaying, 

On a sunny bank I lay; 


88 


LEWIS ARL^’DEL. 


Where the happy grass did grow 
Neath the fragrant lime-tree row. 
Sing heigho! 


“ ‘ There a little fairy flower 
Sing heigho! 

Glancing from its baby eyes 
VYith a look of sweet surprise. 

Grew up beneath a bower, 

Brought unto ni}’’ soul the dawning 
Of a mystic spirit-warning, 

Sing heigho! 

“ ‘ Then 1 wept, and said, despairing, 

Sing heigho! 

Fate is dark, and earth is lone, 

And the heart's young blossoms only 
Render life worth bearing — ' 

“ Now, then, what’s the matter with you?” inquired Bracy, in- 
terrupting' himself, on seeing Frere snatch up his bat and umbrella. 

'* It you're going to read any more of that I’m off; that's all,” 
returned P'rere; ” my powers of enduiance are limited.” 

” Oh, if you are positively such a Hottentot as to dislike it.” re- 
joined Bracy, ” I’ll not waste any more of its sweet simplicity upon 
you; but you'll see the gentle public will rave about it to an im- 
mense extent.” 

” Now tell me honestly, Bracy— you don’t really admire that 
childish rubbish?” 

Thus appealed to, Bracy 's face assumed an expression of most 
comical significance; and, after pausing for a moment in indecision, 
he replied: 

” Well, I've a sort of respect for your good opinion, Frere, and I 
don’t exactly like to send you away fancying me a greater ass than 
lam; so I’ll honestly confess that, what between Germanisms on 
the one hand and the puerilities of the \Yordsworth and-water school 
on the other, the poetry of the present day has sunk to a very low 
ebb indeed.” 

” Then don’t yo^ consider it the duty of every honest critic to 
point this out, and so guide and reform the public taste as to evoke 
from the ‘ well of English undefiled ’ a truer and purer style?” re- 
turned Frere earnestly. 

” My dear fellow, that all sounds very well in theory, but in prac- 
tice 1 am afraid (to use a metaphor derived from one of the humane 
and intellectual amusements of our venerated forefathers) that cock 
won’t fight. It may be all very well for some literary Don Quixote, 
with a pure Saxon taste and a long purse, to tilt at the public's pet 
windmills because he conceives them to be giant abuses — if he meets 
with a fall, he needs only put his hand in his pocket and purchase 
a plaster, getting a triple shield of experience in for the money; but 
it’s far otherwise with a magazine— if that is to continue in exist- 
ence it must pay; in order to pay it must be rendered popular; id 
make a thing popular you must go with the stream of public opin- 


LEWIS AlllTXDEL 


89 


ion, and not against U. The only chance is to head the tide and 
turn it in the direction you desire; hut to attempt that, a man ought 
to possess first-rate talent, and Tm tree to confess that 1, for one, 
do not; and therefore, you see, as people must be amused I’m very 
willing to amuse them in their own way, as long as 1 find it plea^’ant 
and profitable to do so. Voila I do you comprehend?” 

“I comprehend this much,” returned Frere gruffly, “that the 
ground of your argument is expediency, and not principle; and 1 
tell you plainly that does not suit me, and ]’m afraid Miss Arundel 
is too much ol my mind in that particular for her writings to suit 
your wonderful magazine; so the sooner 1 take my departure the 
better for your morning’s work ” 

” Stay a* moment,” returned Bracy, resuming his examination of 
liose’s papers; ” is there nothing but verses? What is this? ‘My 
First Dinner-part^^’ this seems more likely.'’ 

He paused and ran his e 3 ^e over several of the pages, muttering 
from time to time as he w^ent along, ” Yes, good lively style — quick 
powers of observation — a veiy graphic touch — bravol ha! lia! here, 
listen to this: 

” ‘ Immediately before me stood a disli which even my inexperi- 
ence believed itself able to recognize; it was jelly of some kind, with 
certain dark objects incased in it, as flies occasionally are in amber. 
These opaque portions 1 settled, in my own mind, must be preserved 
fruit, and accordingly (fearful lest. In my ignoriince of fashionable 
dishes, 1 should say ‘ yes ’ to some tremendous delicacy which 
might prove particularly distasteful to me) when invited to partake 
of it, 1 graciously signified my assent. Imagine my liorror wdien, 
on putting the first mouthful to my lips, 1 discovered the jelly was 
savory, i.e., all pepper and salt, and the creature embedded m it a 
fragment ot some dreadful fish! Eatiug the thing was out of the 
question; the mere taste 1 had of it made me feel uncomfortable; 
an attempt to conceal it beneath tlie knife and fork proved utterly 
futile. 1 looked at the butler, but he was too much absorbed in his 
own dignity and the dispensation of champagne to observe me; 1 
glanced appealingl}?^ at a good-looking young footman, but he mere- 
ly pulled up his shirt-collar foppishly, thinking he had made an 
7 ilnprcssibn; I even ventured to call, in a low voice, to the sprightly 
waiter who had eloped with m}^ untouched plate of lamb* five min- 
utes before, but he did not hear me, and there 1 sal, with a huge 
plate ot lioriible food before me, which 1 could neither eat nor get 
rid of, a ‘ cynosure for neighboring eyes,’ forced, as my feais sug- 
gested, to run the gantlet of all the mocking glances of the assem- 
blod company.’ ” 

“ There,” continued Brac 3 % ‘‘ 1 call thnt a stunning description; 
1 could not hare done it belter n^yself; the girl writes so easily! 
-l^et me see, 18—25 — 28 lines in a page of manuscript: there’s not 
much of i‘; I think 1 can get it in: 1 want tw’o pages of amusing 
matter in the fourth sheet.” « 

“All! something light, about two. Now 1 understand,” ex- 
claimed Frere, pointing to the mysterious document on the table; 
“ that was not a memorandum about luncheon, then?” 


90 


LEAVIS ARUNDEL. 


“ A what?’' returned Bracy, shouting with laughter. “No,” he 
Continued, as soon as he had in some measure recovered his com- 
posure, “ that is the ‘ make-up,’ as we cail it, ot the third and 
lourth sheets of the magazine.” 

“Indeed!” returned Freie; “I should think it must require a 
great deal of caretul reflection to select suitable articles and arrange 
them properly.” 

“ Eh! no, not a bit; the thing’s simple enough when you once 
get in the way of it — have plenty of variety, that’s the grand point; 
what one doesn’t like another wilt. Take large shot for big birds 
and small shot for little ones, and then you’ll bag the wholy covey; 
that’s my maxim. Now, look here; first we begin with a scientific 
article, ‘ Qestionson Quicksilver;’ there’s not one reader in a hundred 
that can understand that paper v hen they’ve read it; and very few 
even of those who can take it in care two straws about quicksilver; 
why should they; but they all read it because its a cheap way of 
getting up the necessary amount of scientific jargon to hash into 
small "talk. 1 never look at that man’s papers myselt; 1 know 
they’re sate, Enough 1 can’t understand a word of ’em — but they’re 
a great help to the magazine. Then comes our friend, the ‘ Home- 
less Heart 1 put that in aS a drop of romantic barley-sugar, to 
solteii the women’s throats after swallowing the science. Next we 
have ‘ An Historical Parallel;’ famous fellows they are; the principal 
dodge in writing them is to take an ‘ entirely new view of the char- 
acter,' as the actors say; in the present article, it 1 recollect right, 
they prove Coeur-de Lion to have been a hypocritical fanatic, and 
Cromwell a chivalrdc, magnanimous enthusiast. It’s safe ta take, 
depend upon it. ‘ LTncomprise ’ tells its own tale — it’s as close an 
imitation ot Eugene IE.ue and George Saul as English morality will 
tolerate, though the invention ot Gutta Perclia, or some other elastic 
agent, enables even that stiff material, nowadays, to stretch to 
lengths which would astonish our grandmothers. Then comes the 
‘Plea for the Industrial Classes’— a regular savage poke at the 
present Poor Law (we’r*e obliged to do a little bit of political econ- 
omy as well as our neighbors, ^mu kizow); it’s awful heavy, but it 
will neutralize any ill effects * L’lucomprise ’ may have had on 
fathers of families all the better. Lastly, there’s my own little 
thing, ‘ Dog-cart Drives.’ Ahem ! have j^ou seen that?” 

“ Not 1,” replied Frere; “ 1 have no time fm* reading tra— 1 mean 
novels and that sort of thing.” 

“ 1 believe it’s liked; 1 hear it's a good deal talked about,” con- 
tinued Bracy, with an air ot timid self-complacenc}^ “ ‘ Bell’s Lite ’ 
spoke very Handsomely of it last week: there were six whole lines 
devoted to it, 1 think; upon my word I should like you to read it." 

At this moment Frere suddenly discovered that he had remained 
over his time, and should be too late tor some deeply interesting 
expeiiments that were to come off that morning at what his coin^ 
panion termed his science shop; so receiving an assurance from 
Bracy that Rose’s sketch should be inserted in the magazine, and 
that he would consider what would be her best mode of proceeding 
in rec'aid to the poetry, the friends shook hands and parted, Frere 
promising to make himself acquainted with the subject-matter of 
” Dog-cart Drives ” at an early opportunity. 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


91 


CHAPTER XV. 

MISS LIVINGSTONE SPEAKS A BIT OP HER MIND. 

It was a lovely mornini? in early summer, when the sun, shinine: 
into his bedroom jit Broadhurst, aroused Lewis from a heavy, 
dreamless sleep, the result of his previous night’s dissipation at 
Lady Lombard’s. I’he sensation of waking for the first time in a 
strange place is usually a disagreeable one: there is an unfamiliar 
newness in the aspect of everything around us, an absence of old 
associations, which to an impressible disposition is singularly dis- 
heartening. This w'as peculiarly the case with Lewis; tlie costly 
furniture of the room, arranged with a stiff propriety, the spotless 
carpet, the chair-covers too clean and slippery to be sat upon, the 
bright cold mirrors, the polishd grate in wdiich a fire would have 
been high treason, each and all suggestive of the chilling influence 
of that rigid disciplinarian. Miss Livingstone, serred painfully to 
realize his new position. Splendor v;ithout comfort was an anomaly 
he had never befoie encountered, and in his then frame of mind it 
aroused all the bitter feeling which even his strength of will was 
unable to subdue, and lie mentally compared himself to a slave 
working in gilded chains, and longed lor independence, no matter 
through what hardships, struggles, and dangers it must be attained. 
But there was a healthy energy about his mind which prevented his 
yielding to these. morbid feelings; so, hastily dressing hiniself, he 
found his way into the pleasure garden, and as it was yet early, 
strolled onward through the park. 

After wandering about tor nearly an hour, the calm beauty of the 
scenery and the exhilarating freshness of the morning air producing 
their natural effect upon his spirits, it occurred to him that his ab- 
sence might be commented upon, and possibly give offense; accord- 
ingly he retraced his steps toward the house. Ignorant ct the locale, 
iiowever-, he was unable to discover the door by which he liad gone 
out, and, after making one or two attempts in a wrong direction, 
w'as compelled to effect his entrance through a French window 
opening into a tjonservatnry. Lewis possessed a great taste for and 
some knowledge of botany, and his attention was at once attracted 
by the rare and beautilul plants around him. So completely was 
he engrossed by his admiration that not until he heard his own 
name pronounced did he become aware that he was not the sole 
tenant of the coufervalory. Turning at the sound, he perceived 
Annie Grant, in a very becoming gardening costume, busily em- 
ployed iu altering the arrangement of certain flower-pots. 

Before we proceed further it may be as well to affoi’d the reader 
an insight into Lewis’s feelings toward this young lady, as they 
were by no means of such a nature as might be expected from a 
young maj toward a pretty and agreeable girl with whom be was 
about to be domesticated. In order to account for bis peculiar state 
of mind on this subject, we must take a retrospective glance at an 
episode in Lewis.’s student-life which has been already alluded to in 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


9 -^ 

a conversation between Frere and liis friend. About a year before 
the period at which oui atory opened, Lewis liad encountered at a 
festive meeting of the w^orthy citizens of Bonn the very pretty 
daughter of a wealthy shopkeeper, and struck by her brigliL eyes 
and a certain /laive simplicity of manner, had danced with her the 
greater part of the evening. Flattered by the attentions of the 
handsome young Englishman, the damsel, who (her simplicity be- 
ing confined entirely to mannei) was as arrant a little flirt as ever 
caused a heart ache, took care that the acquaintance should con- 
tinue; and while she was merely bent on adding to lUi train of ad- 
mirers, Lewis fell in love with lier, as deep!}" as a man can do with 
a girl completely his inferior in mind as well as in station. Imag- 
ination, however, which at eighteen is alarmingly active, supplied 
all deficiencies, and Lewis continued to dream bis lady-love was an 
angel, till, one fine morning, the tact of her elopement with a Ger- 
man baron, who considered matrimony a superfluous ordinance, 
induced him to alter his opinion. With the termination of the ad- 
venture the reader is already acquainted, hut the effect upon Lewis’s 
disposition was one which time might weaken, but could never 
efface. The fatal lesson that one who seemed true and pure was 
not so, once learned, could never be forgotten; the seeds of mistrust 
were sown, and strive as he might the perfect faith, the bright, 
eager confidence of youth, were lost to him forever. 

Annie, as the reader is aware, was unusually lovely, and Lewis 
accordingly regarded her in the light of a dangerous mau-trap; be- 
sides this, oddly enough, she w as by no means unlike an ethereal 
and spirilualized representation of “ Gretcheu;” the features and 
coloring were similar, and the arch simplicity Qf the Fi'dulem* li 
manner was part and parcel of Annie’s very nature. The painful 
recollectiuns which this resemblance excited added unconsciously to 
the prejudice (for it amounted to that) which Lewis had conceived 
against the general’s daughter; but the true source of the feeling 
lay deeper. However circumstances luay cause him to affect or 
evdi to believe the contrary, there is in eveiy man’s heart a latent 
desire to render himself agreeable to any young and j)retty woman 
into whose society he may be thrown, more especially where the iir- 
dividual is conscious of possessing powers of pleasing, it he chooses 
to exert them; and even ijcwis’s slight expeiience'^oC society liad 
sufliced to enlighten him in regard to this point on which the dullest 
are clear-sighted. But coupled with this feeling came the humiliat- 
ing consciousness that although by birth and education JMiss Grant’s 
equal, the position he held in the family rendered him her interior; 
and this idea was galling in the extreme to Lewis’s haughly nature. 
Annie, on the other hand, profoundly ignorant of all Uiese wheels 
within wheels, entertained the most amiable and benevolent iulen- 
lious toward her new associate. She knew he vvas unfortunate, she 
saw he was a gentleman, and she bad heard that he was undertak- 
ing a duty he ilisliked for the sake of his mother and sister; and for 
all these rensons her woman's heart warmed toward him, and she 
determined to do what she was able to render his position as little 
painful as might be; 'moreover, she was sufficiently acquainted with 
the idiosyncrasies of her father and her great-aunt to be aware that 
any kindness the young tutor would be likely to meet with in the 


LEWIES ARUNDEL. 


93 


family must emanate from herself. Accordingly, when Lewis, 
having replied to her cordial “ Gnod-morning, 31i. Arundel,” by 
slightly raising his hat and making a formal bow, was about to 
pass on, she renewed the attack by adding: 

“May 1 trouble you to move this flower-pot for me? it is so 
heavy.” 

Thus appealed to, Lewis stopped short, and for a moment debated 
with himself the possibility of refusing; but without being actually 
ill-bred, such a possibility did not exist; so, resigning himself to his 
fate with a very ill grace, he deposited his hat on a vacant flower- 
stand, and tossing back his dark curls with the air of a sulky lion 
shaking Ids mane, he took the gar:leu-pot, which indeed seemed too 
heavy for Annie’s little hands, and asked with a stately coldness by 
no means in cbaracter with the mild nature of the inquiry: 

” Where would you wish it to be placed. Miss Grant?” 

” Here, if you will be so kind,” returned the younff lady, indi- 
cating the spot by pointing with the end of a pert little parasol. 

Lewis, having installed the plaid in its appointed place, was again 
•about to take his departure, but ere he did so, glancing involim- 
taril}^ at the eflect of his labor, his quick eye at once discerned the 
object of the changes Annie was striving to effect, and perceived 
that, in order to carryout her designs, several heavy flower-pots yet 
required moving. Nothing, however, was further from his tlioughts 
than the idea of volunteering his assistance, when Annie, catching 
the direction of his eye, continued: 

” Yes, the white camellia is too low.” 

” While the rhododendron is as much loo high,” returned Lewis 
eagerly, and forgetting his proud scruples in the impulse of the 
moment, he set to work with the greatest energy to complete the 
arrangement, which his correct taste acknowledged to bean improve- 
ment. 

The camellia had been exalted, and Ibe rhododendron abased, and 
many other ‘‘ pets of the parterre ” had experienced sudden changes 
of station, and still Lewis worked with unabated zeal, and still his 
fair companion directed and approved, when just as, poised on one 
foot balf-way up a high flower-stand, he was stretching to his ut- 
most to install a gaudy cactus, all red and green like a paroquet, on 
the topmost pinnacle, a stately tread was heard approaching and 
General Grant entered the conservatory. Lewis colored with min- 
gled anger and annoyance at being delected in such a situation; but 
Annie good-naturedly came to his assistance. Tripping up to her 
father, and taking both his hands, she exclaimed: 

” Good- morning, papa. AYelconie to dear old Broadhurst once 
again. How pretty it looks! but they have placed my flow^ers so 
stupidly 1 must have every one of them altered. I’ve been working 
away for halt an hour at least, and as Mr. Arundel happened to be 
passing, 1 pressed him into the service, for some of the pots are so 
heavy.” 

Much too heavy for you to attempt to move, my dear,” returned 
the general in a tone of marked dLapproval, ‘‘ but why did you not 
summon one of the gardeners to make the alteration you wi.?hed, 
without troubling Mr. Arundel, who must have had other duties to 
perform?’ 


94 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


As it was your desire, sir, to be present at my introdiicti>»n to 
my future pupil,” replied Leu is, who bad by this lime reached 
terra Jirma and recovered his selt- possession, “1 have retrained 
from niiiuing any attempt to see him till 1 should have learned your 
further wishes on the subject. My lime was therefore quite nt 
Miss Grant’s disposal, if 1 couhl be in any w’ay useful to her.” 

” My daughter is obliged by your politeness, sir, but will not 
trespass upon it further,” replied the general coldly. ‘‘My dear 
Annie,” he continued, ” it only wants ten minutes of nine; you will 
oblige me by preparing for breakfast— punctuality is a quality by 
the neglect of which all order is subverted, propriety set at naught, 
much valuable time wasted which can never be recalled, and the 
comfort of a family totally destroyed. Your excellent aunt is 
aware of my opinion on this subject, iind during the twelve years 
slie has done me the favor to preside over my hi/Usehold she has 
never kept me waiting one minute.” 

‘‘ Wei), dear papa, I’ll do my best to please you,” leturnel Annie; 
“but,” slie added, laying her band on his shoulder caressingly, and 
looking up in his face with a glance half mischievous and half ini-* 
ploring, “ you won't expect me to be so terribly perfect as Aunt 
Martha? llecollect she is three times as old as 1 am, and ought 
therefore to be three times as wise.” 

The general tried to look displeased, but he could not resist 
Annie, lor he was human after all; so, stroking her srlossy curls, 
he told her that Mrs. Bolherfille (a serious school -mistress who. for 
the tiifling consiileration of £300 per annum, condescended to allow 
the youthful female aristocracy of the land to sit at her feet, and 
lean? from her lips how to regenerate society through (he medium 
of frivolous accomplishments) had failed in curing her of talking 
nonsense, at which Annie laughed merrily, and then tripped oft, 
turning as she passed Lewis to take a last glance at the newly ar- 
ranired flowers, and sayiug, ” Now, don't they look pretty, Mr. 
Arundel?” 

As the directions in regaid to Lewis and his piipiTs separate es- 
tablishment (tor such the isolated suite of rooms they w^ere to oc- 
cupy might b'j considered), had not as yet been communicated to the 
servants, General Grant requested the favor of Lewis’s company at 
breakfast with as much ceremony as he could have used if he liad 
been inviting a royal duke to a banquet; and as a request from such 
a quarter was equivalent to a command, Lewis could only comply 
Half a minute before the clock struck uine. Miss Livingstone, that 
human hedgehog, rustled into the breakfast room more stiff and 
starched in mind and body than any otiier living creature. As tor 
her cap, a railway train might have passed over it without injuring 
that rigid mystery, while her gown was at the least saber, not to 
say bullet-proof. If there ever were a wife fitted tor our Iron 
Duke, that adamantine spinster was the woman — only that to have 
married her would have required more courage than twenty Water- 
ioos! 

As the clock struck nine, the household servants made their ap- 
pearance, and all the family knelt down (with the exception of J\Iiss 
Livingstone, who, being evidently fashioned as the ancients be- 
lieved elephants were, without knee joints, merely reared up against 


LEWIS AKUKDEL. 


95 


the break fast-table as tlie next best thing she could do) while the 
general read them a short, stern, but polite prayer, after which he 
blessed them very much as if he were doing the reverse; and 
suffered them to depart. The breakfast was excellent as far as the 
commissariat department was concerned, and the tea was not so cold 
as might have been expected considering Miss Livingstone poured 
it out. 

Even Lewises short acquaintance with that austere virgin’s usual 
expression ot countenance led him to believe that a darker shade 
than ordinary lowered upon her brow; nor was he mistaken, for 
after dispa‘ching a piece of dry toast with the air of an acidulated 
martyr, the spirit (we fear it was not an amiable one) moved her, 
and she spoke; 

“ 1 must say, general, your benevoleiice has rather overpowered 
your j idgment to my poor thinking in this singular addition to the 
establishment at Broadhurst. i really consider that 1 ought to have 
been a little more clearly informed as to the facts of the case before 
these new arrangements were actually decided on.” 

“ It you refer to Sir Waller Desborough, madam,” returned the 
general sternly, ” 1 must recall to your memory the fact of my 
having mentioned to 5 'on, this day week, my intention that m*y 
ward should reside at Broadhurst.” 

” 1 am not in the habit of forgetting any communication you do 
me the honor of making to me, General Grant, nor have I forgotten 
the conversation to which you refer; but it you mentioned that 
your ward was a dangerous idiot, and that you expected me to pre- 
side over a private lunatic asylum, that ciicumstance certainly has 
escaped me.” 

The wi inkles on the general’s forehead deepened as he replied, 
with a glance toward l^ewis, “You forget, Miss Livingstone, that 
we are not in private.” 

“ Really,” rejoined tne lady, “ if, as 1 believe, that young ” (and 
she laid an ill-natured emphasis on the word) “ gentleman has un- 
dertaken the duties of keeper—” 

“ Tutor,” interposed the general sharply. 

“ Well, tutor, then, if you like to call it so,” continued Miss Liv- 
ingstone, “ the name does not much signify; but if Mr. Arundel is 
to have the care of this dreadful boy, the sooner be knows wdiat his 
duties win be, and sets about them, the better; fori tell you plainly,. 
General Grant, that unless there’s a man about the creature who can 
manage him, 1 won’t sleep another night in the house wdth him. 
There’s no trusting those idiots; we may all be murdered in oui 
beds.” 

As the good lady, who bad by this time got the steam up to a very 
high degree of pressure, hazarded the above uncomfortable sugges- 
tion, Annie, who had been listening with an expression of painful 
annoyance to her aunt’s harangue, suddenly turned pale and glanced 
with a look ot appealing inquiry toward her father, who replied to 
her rather than to Miss Livingstone, in the following terms; 

“Really, iny dear Annie, 1 am compelled la say that the feats 
with which your excellent relative ” (and he looked bayonets at Min- 
erva, who shook her head till lier terrific cap rustled like an angry 


LEWIS Alll'N^DEL. 


OG 

)iai]-storm) “ would seek lo inspire you are utterly without tounda- 
^n.'* 

Then, turning to Lewis, he added. 

“ The truth of the matter, IMr. Arundel, is that from a mistaken 
policy, your future pupil has been indulged in every caprice of his 
weak intellect till the slightest opposition to his wishes irritates him 
beyond all control that has ytt been exercised over him: but as his 
only attendants are an old female domestic who was his nurse, and 
her son, a lad 3"oungei than Sir ATalter himself, whom he has been 
ioolishly permitted to look upon in the light of a companion, this is 
not so much to be wondered at.” 

” It will be a ditficiilt task to eradicate faults of temper which 
have been allowed to become habitual, especially where the reason- 
ing faculties are detective,” observed Lewu's thoughtfully. 

” You may well sa}" that, sir,” chimed in Aliss Livingstone; ” his 
reasoning faculties (as you please to term them) aie so defective that, 
in my humble opinion, the boy is neither more nor less than a fool: 
and you may as well try to drive a pig straight as to talk sense lo a 
fool; but how a man so particular as General Grant can have brought 
such an inmate into his family, and then expect tliat things are to 
go on with the order and precision that — ” 

” Madam!” began the general in a voice of thunder, his stock of 
patience utterly exhausted by lliis indirect mode of attack. But 
Annie, with a degree of tact and moral courage for which Lewis had 
by no means been disposed to give her credit^ laid her hand implor- 
ingly on her father’s arm, and wdiispered a few magical words which 
seemed lo avert the storm that had appeared inevitable. An awde- 
w'ard pause ensued, wliich was broken by the general, wdio, rising 
majestically from his chair, informed Lewis that he should request 
his attendance in half an hour; then casting a withering: glance at 
Miss Livingstone, which caused tluit respectable porcupine of pri- 
vate life to bi’istle up it possible more fiercely than before, he quitted 
the room. No sooner had her nephew-in-law’s retreating footsteps 
ceased to echo through the long corridor than the good lady, freed 
from the restraint of his presence, did then and there openly, 
avowedly, and with much vehemence, utter a declaration of war, 
issue a protest against the introduction of “rampant idiots” into 
. that hitherto ])eaceful family, and finally assert lier owm libert}’' of 
action, by promulgating her determination to depart forthwith, 
leaving her companions to contemplate the agreeable contingencies 
ot “ being fii'^hteued out of their wits during ihedaj^-timeand mur 
* dered in ilieii beds at night” 

Having in some degree relieved her mind by this explosion, sho 
applied the superfluous steam still remaiuing to the purpose of 
locomotion, lier ciisp shako rending the air and her high-heeled shoes 
knocking sharp little double knocks, as of an angry postman, 
against the polished oak floor as she sw^ept along. 

And these “ pleasant passages ” were the first votive offering which 
3.(e\vi8 saw presented to the Lares and Penates of Broadhurst. 


LEWIS ARUXDEL. 


97 


CHAPTER XVI. 

COTs TAINS MUCH FOI.LY AND A LITTLE COMMON SENSE. 

General Grant sat bolt upright in his eas\ -chair as if lie were 
on liis cliarger, and his lace wore an expression of scrutinizing 
authority, as of a commander about to review his troops, when 
Lewis, in obedience to his summons, entered the library. 

“ Take a chair, Mr. Arundel. I have requested the attendance of 
Sir Walter Desborough, and expect he will be here immediately.” 

In compliance with this request Lewis seated himself to await the 
arrival of his future pupil ; but the minutes glided by and still no 
pupil appeared. At length, just as the general’s small stock of 
]iatience became exhausted and he had requested Lewis to ring the 
bell, the butler returned saying it was impossible to induce Sir Wal- 
ter to leave his room unless the female attendant who had been his 
nurse might come with him. General Grant frowned portentously, 
glanced expressively towaid Lewis, mutterins, ” Some of the evil 
effects of a grievous system of neglect;” then added to the servant, 
“You may desire Mrs. Peters to accompany Sir Walter Desbor- 
ough.” 

“ One of the first points to which you will have to direct your at- 
tention, Mr. Arundel,” continued the general, as the domestic quit- 
tea the apartment, “ is to induce my ward to dispense with the 
society of this person and her son; he may retain their services as 
attendants, but must be taught no longer to regard them as com- 
panions.” 

As he spoke the door opened and admitted three individuals. Of 
these, the first who claims our notice was the unfortunate yo.ung 
haronet who was tc be Lewis’s future charge. He apeared about 
fourteen, but was tall for that age; his figure was slight and not 
ungraceful, and his features were handsome; his forehead was high 
but narrow and receding; his eyes were bright and clear, though 
totally devoid of expression, and there was an appearance of weak- 
ness and irresolution about the mouth which too clearly indicated 
ills want of intellect. Mrs. Peters was a very stout old lady, on 
whom the cares of life and a rare specimen of the female costume 
of some by-gone age appeared to sit easily; her outline might have 
siiggedcd to an imaginative beholder the idea of a huge pillow which ' 
had “ come alive,” and made itself a gown out of one of the chintz 
hed curuiins, forgetting the waist. Her conversation was embel- 
lished with a reaundancy of mild ejaculations, among which a bene- 
diction on her own “ heart alive,” and an apostrophe to a solitary 
possessive pronoun, which had lost its noun and agreed with noth- 
ing in particular, stood pre-eminent. Her slock of ideas, which was 
by no means inconveniently large, had been presented to her in her ^ 
youth, and required altering to suit the present fashion. Still she 
was a good old woman in her way; her ” heart alive ” was a very 
kind one, anti she doted on poor Walter, spoiling and indulging hirn 
till she had made a greater fool of him than nature had intended him 
4 


98 


LEWIS AKUKLEL. 


\o be. The trio was completed by her hopeful son Robert, or, as he 
was more familiarly termed, Bob Peters, who, one year younger 
than Sir Walter^ was as clever and mischievous an imp as ever in- 
dued a page’s livery and bore a splendid crop of buttons to fascinate 
society. Pressing close to his nurse’s side, and dragging the pretty 
page after him by the wrist, Walter entered the alarming presence 
of "his guardian and his tutor, hanging back like a startled colt the 
moment he perceived a stranger. 

“ Walter, come here; I want to introduce you to this gentleman,'^ 
exclaimed General Grant, in the blandest tone he could command; 
but in vain; Walter onl}'’ hung his head and shrunk closer to his 
protectress. 

“ Go to the general, Walter, dearie. Bless my heart alive, you 
ain’t so silly as to be afraid of exclaimed Mrs. Peters, empha- 

sizing the 1dm, as though it referred to a pet lamb or a tame rabbit. 

“ Go in and wu’n. Master Waller; the gentleman won’t bite 3 ^er,’'^ 
suggested Bob in an audible whisper. 

But their remonstrances produced no efiect upon Walter, and 
served only to increase General Grant’s irritation. 

“ He must be taught obedience, sir,” he remarked quickly, ap- 
pealing to Lewis; ‘ nothing can be done till he becomes obedient;’^ 
then, turning to the old nurse, he continued, “Mrs. Peters, Sir 
Walter will not require your attendance at present; you may leave 
the room and take your son with you.” 

“ I'm afraid, sir, you won’t be able to do nothing with Master 
Walter without some one of us stops with him; you see he’s kind 
of used to us,” urged Mrs. Peters. 

“1 shall feel obliged by your leaving the room, Mrs. Peters; 
when 1 require your advice 1 will inform you of the tact,” returned 
the general, w^alking with stately steps toward the door, which he 
held partially open, to permit (he egress of the servants while he 
prevented Walter from following them. 

As he saw his friends depart, the boy raised his eyes, which 
gleamed with mingled fear and rage, to General Grant’s face, but 
cold inflexibility was written there so unmistakably that even the 
darkened perception of the idiot could not fail to perceive it; and 
apparently feeling instinctively that anger would be unavailing, his 
countenance assumed a sulky dogged expression, and he suffered 
himself to be Jed to a seat tvithout opposition. But, despite this suc- 
cess, the general seemed as far from gaining his point as ever; 
neither kindness nor coercion could induce Waller to pay the slight- 
est attention to the remarks addressed to him or to utter a single 
word. Any one, to have seen him at that moment, would have 
iningined him to hopelessly imbecile. That such was not the case, 
however, Lewis, who, without interfering openly, had been closely 
observing him from the moment of bis entrance, felt convinced. 
He bad particularly watched the play of his features, and had re- 
marked, when lie first came in, that" they were characterized by an 
expression of fear and shyness rather than of stupidity, and that it 
was not unlit hig ^ruarclian liad banished those whom he knew well 
and in whom he had confidence that tiiey assumed the look of stolid 
sulkiness whicli they now wore. After making several unsuccess- 
ful attempts to elicit from his wmrd some proof of intelligence, Gen- 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


99 


«ral Grant at length quitted the room in search of his daughter, act- 
uated thereunto by a vague consciousness that his owu manner 
might pohsibly be deficient in conciliatory power, and that Annie, 
from the fact of her belonging to the softer sex, possessed a decided 
advantage over him in this particular. Availing himself of this op- 
portunity, Lewis caught up a young kitten which was playing about 
the room, and toward which he had observed Waller cast several 
furtive glances, and caressing tlie little animal as he held it in his 
arm“, he approached his pupil, saying quietly: 

“I’m sure you like the kitten, Walter, she is so playful and 
pretty?” 

The boy made no answer, but the sullen looKin his face gradually 
gave place to a milder expression, and he glanced from Lewis to 
the kitten with an appearance of intelligence for which any one who 
had seen him a minute before would not have given him credit. 
Lewis saw that he had Ipuched the right string, and continued in 
the same kind and gentle manner: 

“ We must make a great pet of the kitten; she will play with us 
and amuse us nicelv.’’ 

As he said this Walter drew closer to him, and seeming in his in- 
terest about the kitten, to target his fear of the stranger, held out 
his hands for the little creature to be given to him. 

“ Will you b 3 kind to her if 1 let you have her?” continueed 
Ijcwis. 

Walter nodded in token of assent, and Lewis handed him the kit- 
ten, wliich he immediately began to fondle and play with, laughing 
with cliildish glee at its gambols. After amusing himself in this 
manner for several minutes, he suddenly turned to Lewis and asked, 
m a half- whisper: 

‘‘ Do you like ponies too?” 

Delighted at this proof of the success of his attempt to win his 
pupil’s confidence, Lewis signified his intense affection for ponies in 
general, and inquired whether Walter possessed one. On receiving 
an affirmative nod, he continued: 

“ And are you very fond of riding it?” 

This question seemed to perplex the bo 3 % for he made no reply, 
and a halt-puzzled, vacant expression banished the gleam of intelli- 
gence which had lighted up his features. Lewis repeated the in- 
quiry in two or three different forms, but with no better success. 
A pause ensued, during which the young tutor pomiered with him- 
self the best means of calling forth and strengthening the faint germ - 
of intellect, which evidenily existed in the clouded mind of the poor 
idiot, when Walter again looked up, and exclaimed abnipily: 

“ Bob says i’m to ride the pony when somebody comes to take 
care of me"” 

“ And 1 am that somebody,” returned Lewis, smiling good-nat- 
uredly; “ you shall ride the pony to-day, if you like.” 

This seemed to please him, for he nodded and laughed, and re- 
sumed his gambols with the kitten. Suddenly a new idea appeared 
to strike him. for his tace became clouded, and drawing close to 
Lewis he whispered, pointing to the door by which General Grant 
had left the apartment. 

“ Don’t tell him, or he won’t let me go.” 


]00 


LEWIS AUU^^i>EL. 


“ Why should you thinli so, Walter? That gentleman is your 
t^uardian, and means to be very kind t0 3’’ou,” returned Lewis; but 
Walter shook his head and repeated: 

“ Don't tell him, he won’t let me go.” 

At this moment the general relumed, accompanied by Annie, 
whose feelings of sympathy and pity weie slightly tempered by the 
fears which Miss Livingstone had labored industriously to instill into 
hex mind. Lewis drew the general on one side and gave hiiu an 
outline of all that had passed during his absence, adding thal, al- 
though it was of course too soon for him to judge, with any degree 
of accuracy, to what extent they might proceed, it was evident his 
pupil possessed some powers of reasoning wliich cultivation might 
develop. And he was going on to add that haishness appeared to 
him likely rather to increase than diminish (he evil, when his atten- 
tion was attracted by an exclamation of auger from Walter. 

Ihe moment General Grant returned his ward had relapsed into 
his former state of sullen apathy, and all Annie’s attempts to induce 
him to notice her only appeared to increase his obstinacy, till at 
length she began to stroke the kitten, which he still held in his arms. 

This, for some unexplained cause (probably because he fancied 
she might be about to injure his favorite or to deprive him of it), 
irritated him beyond control, and f(»rgetting his fear in his anger, he 
littered the exclamation above alluded to, and struck at her fieicely 
with a riding-whip, which he had brought in with him. Springing 
forward, however, before the blow could descend, Lewis caught his 
npliftCvl arm and held it in an iron grasp, while in a grave but stern 
voice he said : 

“ Walter, 1 am surpiised at you. Attempt to strike a lady! Adu 
must never do such a thing again/’ 

The calm, impressive manner in which he uttered these words ap- 
peared to produce a beneficial effect in subduing the boy’s irritation; 
tor, after making one furious but unavailing attempt to free him- 
self, he sal perfectly still and unresisting. Nothing, however, could 
induce him to make friends with Annie, or to allow her to touch 
his beloved kitten; though when Lewis caressed it, and even took it 
in his arms, he appeared well contented. 

A fortnight’s careful study of the young baronet’s character only 
served to confirm the impression Lewis had received during this first 
interview. That he possessed some pow'er of leasoning and leflec- 
tion was evident ; but the great d'.ficulty lay in finding a key to the 
workings of his mind, by aid f which these powers might be 
strengthened and developed. Any direct qiiesiion seemed to puzzle 
and contuse him; and the only plan wdiich appeared to promise suc- 
cess was, it possible, to discover some train of thought (if the vague 
and desultory fancies which flitted across his feeble brain deserve to 
be so called) and then to lead him gently on, by suggesting new 
ideas, some of which he might adopt and retain. But it was an up- 
hill task, and often when Lewis, with a degree of calm perseverance 
which, in one of his eager and impetuous disposition, could scarce- 
ly have been looked lor, had succeeded in making him acquire, as 
he believed, a leading idea on which he hoped to base some super- 
structure of elementary knowledge, a look of hopeless vacuity would 
show that no progiess had been made, and that the labor must all 


LEWIS AKLELEL. 


101 


be gune ihrouah again, ^.t othei times some shrewd remark or 
peilinent question would take Lewis, as it were, by surprise, and 
induce him to imagine that he had underrated his pupil’s mental 
capacity, and that the fault must lie in bis own inexperience of such 
cases. But there was much to be unlearned as well as to be taught. 
As is usually the case in persons of weak intellect, the more animal 
parts ot his nature were proportionably strong. He was subject to 
. violent bursts of passion if his will were in the slightest degree 
thwirled, which it required all Lewis’s hrniness and strength of 
character to contend against successfully. Occasionally fits of mel- 
ancholy w^ould seize him, during which he would sit for hour& with- 
out speaking, his head resting dejectedly on his hand and nothing 
appearing uble to interest or amuse him. If not prevented he would 
eat so voraciously as to injure his health. He was also Indoleut, and 
averse to active exertion of any kind. But Lewis took much pains 
to teach him to ride, and the exercise thus obtained tended greatly 
to strengthen his constitution. His fondness for animals was one 
of the most amiable points in his disposition. He and Faust, ere 
long, became inseparable; and Lewis found tbe dog a most useful 
auxiliary in inculcating — by example, not precept, for Faust could 
not quite talk— the necessity of implicit obedience. 

A "month soon glided by, and at its expiration Lewis informed 
General Gnml that, if he still - wished him to undertake the care of 
his ward, he was willing to do so; an offer of which that noble 
commander joyfully availed himself, being in hiB secret soul equally 
surprised and pleased at the degree of success which had already 
attended Lewis’s efforts, and only too glad to secure tlie services of 
one who could, and would, save him all further difficulty in ivirard 
to the onerous and troublesome responsibility which he had taken 
upon himself. For the next six months of his residence at Broad- 
hurst Lewis saw but little of the tam^l3^ During the greater part 
of that time the general was absent on a visit to some relations in 
Scotland, whither his daughter accompanied him. Miss Living- 
stone, having supplied herself with a resident victim in the person 
of Miss Susan Pinner, an unhappy little fourteen-year-old cousin 
once removed (the further the better from such a relative, we should 
imagine), spent her time very happily in dailj" offering up the help-^ 
less sacrifice thus acquired at the altar ot her evil temper, and tyr ' 
annizing over the poor of the neighborhood with most excruciating 
benevolence. A sick family was a rare treat to this venerable 
scourge. Ob, the nauseous medicines she forced down the throats 
of the destitute— the agirravating directious with which she tortured 
the suffering— the hateful dietary on which she nourished ail sick 
persons and 5^oung children! truly an irritating poor man’s plaster 
was that sphinx of modern society, Minerva Livingstone, and CEdi- 
pus himself would never have guessed at one half her modes of in- 
geniously tormenting indigent merit. Fortunately, working out the 
details of this ferocious philanthropy occupied so much of the good 
lady’s time that Lewis enjoyed a happy immunity from her atten- 
tions, and was allowed to put iu practice his theories for the ini 
provement ot his pupil without let or hinderance; and it was with a 
degree of pleasure which was in itself sucfficieut reward for his 
trouble that he perceived his plans likely to succeed be^^ond his 


102 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


most sanguine expectations. Aftairs were in this position when — 
but such an interesting disclosure requires a tresh chapter. 


CHAPTER Xni. 

liEWIS RECEIVES A MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION, AND IS RUN 
AWAY WITH HY TWO YOUTHFUL BEAUTIES. 

The arrival of the post-bag was an interesting event to Lewis as al- 
most the only pleasure he allowed himself was a lapid interchange 
of letters with his sister; and to this cor respondence was he indebted 
tor an amount of vvarm sympathy, judicious advice, and affec- 
tionate interest in his pursuits which tended greatly to relieve the 
monotony and diminish the irksomeness of his situation; but with 
the exception of Rose and (occasionally) Frere, his correspondents 
were exceedingly limited in number, and their epistles few and far 
between. It was, then, a matter of no small surprise to him to 
receive a business-like-looking letter in an unknown handwriting. 
To break the seal (which bore the imp'-ession of the letters J. arid 
L. united in a tlourishing cipher that, at first sight, looKed like a 
bad attempt to delineate a true lover’s knot) was the work of a mo- 
ment. The contents were as follows: 

“ Sir,— M y partner and myself, having some connection with the 

town of ” (near which Mrs. Arundel and Rose resideil), “ were 

cognizant of the death of your late lamented father, which sad 
event was reported to have been caused by the sudden discovery of 
some important information contained in a public journal. It is in 
our power to impfcrt to you the nature of that information; but as 
we have every reason to believe its importance has not been over- 
rated, we are only prepared to do so on the following te'-ms — viz., the 
present receipt of ten guineas and a bond pledging yourselt to pay 
to us (be sum of £200 should the information prove as valuable as 
we conceive it to be. Awaiting the favor of a speedy answer, we 
have the honor to remain, sir, yours obediently, 

“ J jNES & Levi, AUorneys-ai-Lato, 

“ Street, Old Bailey.'' 

“ What a strange letter!” soliloquized Lewis, after perusing it 
carefully for the second time. “ The writer evidently knows the 
circumstances of my poor father’s death correctly, but there’s noth- 
ing in that; the newspaper story rests on the evidence of the library- 

keeper at ; and he probably told it to every one who come into 

his shop for the next week; and this tale may have been invented 
io suit the circumstances with a view’' to extort money. One has 
heard of such rogueries; but in that case why insist on the £200 
bond? lhat seems as if Messrs. Jones and Levi tbeirselves had 
laitfi in the value of their information; or it may only be done in 
order to give me that impression. I’ll send the letter up to Richard 
Prere and ask him to ferret out these gents— 1 dare say they are 
thorough gents. Walter, 1 will not let you give Faust all your 
gloves to play with; that is the third pair you’ve allow^ed him to 


LEWIS AEUXDEL. 103^ 

c:na\v to pieces this week. Faust I drop it, sir. Do you hear met 
Tliat’s light: good, obedient dog. Now for Master Richard.’' 

So saying he took up a pen, and wrote, in a delicately- formed, 
yet free and bold hand, the following note: 

“ l^EAR OLD Frere, —Certain individuals, signinjx themselves 
‘ Jones and Levi/ have seen lit to favor me with the inclosed mys- 
terious communication, which, on the lace of the thing, loohs very 
like an attempt to swindle. As there is, however, just a remote 
possibility that something may come of it (for their account of the 
circumstances preceding my poor father’s death tallies exactly with 
the recital m 3 ' sister gj;.ve on my return), you will, 1 am sure, add 
one more to your mi ny kindnesses by investigating this matter for 
me. You must bear in mind that £10 notes are by no means too 
plentiful with me, and that, under present circumstances, my bond 
for £‘^00 would scared}^ be worth as many pence= My poor charge 
progresses slowly; he has become much more docile and tractable, 
and is consideiablj' improved in manners and general amiability, but 
his mental capacity is lamentably deficient; his reasoning powers 
and usual habits of thought aje about on a par with those of a child 
of six or seven years old; though many intelligent children of that 
age are greatly his superiors iu intellect; still he makes visible prog- 
ress, and that is recompense sufficient for any expenditure of time 
and trouble. lie has become much attached to me, and (perhaps 
for that very reason— perhaps from the necessity to love something 
which exists in the nature of every man worthy of tlie name) I have 
grown so deeply interested in him that duties which six months ago 
I should have reckoned irksome in the extreme have now become 
really pleasant to me. 1 bore you with these details because . . . 

because you are so old a friend that 1 have acquired a prescriptive 
right to bore you when I like it. As W alter and Faust (who clearly 
knows that 1 am writing to you, and sends you an affectionate wag 
of the tail), are becoming impatient at the length of my epistle, 
there being a walk in prospect, dependent on my arriving at a satis- 
factory conclusion, the sooner I do so the better. 

“ Yours ever, L. A."^ 

As Lewis folded and sealed this missive a servant entered with a 
note on a silver waiter, saying, as he presented it, “ Foi you, sir. 
1 am desired to wait while you read it.” 

It was written in a stiff, formal hapd, and ran as follows: 

“Miss Livingstone presents her compliments to Mr. Arundel, 
and requests the favor of an interview with him.” 

“ What is in the wind now, 1 wonder?” thought Lewis; but no 
only said, “ Tell Miss Livingstone I will do myself the pleasure ot 
waiting on her immediately;” and the servant retired. 

Minerva was enthroned in state in the small drawing-room, the 
large one being an awful apartment, dedicated to high and solemn 
social convocations, and by no means lightly to be entered. Care 
sat upon her wrinkled brow, and she looked as uncomfortable as in 
such a sitiiaiion might reasonably liave been expected. This re 
markable woman rose as Lewis entered, and performed as near ai^ 


104 


LE\YrS ARUNDEL. 


approach to a courtesy as her elephantine confonnation would per- 
mit; then, graciously motioning lier visitor to a seat, she growled 
an inquiry after the well-being of his pupil, promulgated a decided 
ly sc^mdalous account of the state ot the weather, wdth a dishearten- 
ing prophecy appended relating to meteorological miseries yet to 
come; and having thus broken her own ice, dived into the cnilly re- 
<3esses of her cold water sj^stern, and fished up from its stonj^ depths 
the weighty grievance that oppressed her. 

It appeared that the same post which had conveyed the mysteri- 
ous document from Messrs. Jones and Levi had also brought a let- 
ter from General Grant, containing the intelligence that he was 
about to return home lorthwith; tliat the house was to he prepared 
for the reception of a large Christmas party, and that Miss ifiving- 
stone w’as lo pay a round of visits preparatory to the issue of innum- 
erable notes of invitation, by which the neighborhood wuis to be in- 
duced to attend sundry festive meetings at Broadhiirst; and all this 
was lo be done more thoroughly and on a larger scale than usual, 
for some mysterious reason, in regard to which the general was equal- 
ly urgent and enigmatical. But Minerva shall speak for herself. 

“ Having thus, Mr. Arundel, made myself acquainted with 
General Grant’s wishes (fourteen beds to be ready this day week, 
and not even the hangings put up on one of them— but men are so 
inconsiderate uo\^adays), 1 proceeded to give Reynolds (the bouse- 
keei^er) full and clear instructions (to not one of which did she pay 
proper attention — but servants are so careless and self-conceited 
jiDwadays) as to all the necessary domestic arrangements. 1 then 
desired the coachman might be informed that 1 should require tjhe 
carriage to be ready for use at two o’clock lo morrow' (as you are 
perhaps aw^are, sir, that since the general’s departure for Scotland 1 
have restricted myself to a simple pony-chaise). Judge of my 
amazement when 1 was told there were no horses fit lo use! 1 
begged to see the coachman instantly, but learned that be w'as con- 
fined to his bed with influenza; the second coachman is in Scotland 
with the general, so there w^as not a creature to whom 1 could speak 
about the matter. Under these circumstances, which are equally 
unexpected and annoying, 1 considered myself justified in applying 
to you, Mr. Arundel. Would you oblige me by going through the 
atables and ascertaining whether anything can be devised to meet the 
present emergency? 1 am aware that the service 1 require of you 
is beyond the strict routine of your duties; but you must yourself 
perceive the impossibility of a lady venturing among stablemen and 
iielpers without showing a disregard to that strict rule of propriety 
by which it has been the study of my life to regulate my conduct.'" 

" Having reached this climax, Minerva glanced with an air of dig- 
nified self-approval toward Lewis, and began a very unnecessary 
process ot refrigeration, with the aid ot a fan apparently compf»seci, 
like its mistress, of equal parts of cast-iron and buckram. Lewis 
immediately signified his readiness to underlake the commission, 
and promising to come back to report progress, bowed and left the 
room. 

On reaching the stables a groom attended his summons, and, after 
tlic fashion of his race, entei*ed into a long explanation ot the series 
of untoward circumstances lo which the present state of equine des- 


LEWIS AUUKDEL. 


105 


tiliition miirlil. be attributed; in the course ot vvbieh harangue he 
performed, so to speak, a fantasia on the theme, “ And then, do you 
see, sir, coachman hobserved,” to which sentence, after each vaiia- 
tioD, he constantly returned. The substance of his communication 
was as follows: Shortly before the gfeneril’s departure one of the 
carriage horses had fallen and broken his knees, and its companion 
having; an unamiable predilection for kicking, the pair were sold 
and a couple ot young unbroken animals purchased, which, after a 
summer’s run, were destined to replace the delinquents. Shortly 
after this the general fell in love with and bought a pair of iron- 
gray tour year-olds, also unbroken; all these young horses were 
now taken up from grass, and about to be broken in, but the coach- 
man’s illness had interiupled their education. 

“ Well, but are neither pair of the young stock available?” in- 
quired Lewis. 

“I’m afeared not, sir,” was the reply; “the bays ain’t never 
been in harness, and the iron-grays only three times.” 

“ Oh, the grays ham been in harness three times, have they?” re- 
sumed Lewis. “ Let me take them out to-day, to see how they per- 
form.” 

“ If you please, sir, i am only pad groom, and 1 can’t gay as 1 
should feel myself disaclly compertent to drive them wild devils.” 

“ Bring out that mail phaeton; put-ou the break harness, and I’ll 
drive them myself,” returned Lewis. 

“ uut, if you please, sir,” began the groom in a tone of remon- 
strance. 

“ My good fellow, you waste time in talking; of course, if any- 
thing goes wrong in consequence of your obeying my directions, I 
alone shall be answerable; but nothing wdll go wrong it your har- 
ness is sound,” returned Lewis, quickly. 

The man, seeing the young tutor was determined, summoned one 
of his fellows, and in a short time the ohaeton was made ready, and 
the horses harnessed and fed out. They were a splendid pair of 
dark iron-grays, with silver manes and tails; their heads small and 
well set on, their sloping shoulders and fine graceful legs, spoke 
W'ell tor their descent; but they snorted with fear and impatience 
as they were led up to their places, and their bright full eyes gazed 
wildly and restlessly around. 

“ Be quiet with them!” exclaimed Lewis, as one ot the men laid 
a rude grasp on the rein to back the near-side horse into his place; 
“ you can’t be too quiet and steady with a young horse. Soho, boy! 
what IS it, (hen? nobody is going to hurt you,” he continued, pat- 
ting the startled animal, and at the same time backing him gently 
into the required position. 

The operation of putting- to was soon completed; and Lew’is, say- 
ing, “ k^ou had better lead them oft if there is any difficulty iu get- 
ting them to start,” took the reins in his hand and sprung up lightly 
but quietly. Seating himself firmly, he asked, “ Now, are you all 
ready?” and, receiving an answer in the affirmative, continueni; 
“Give them their heads, then;” and making a mysterious sound 
which may be faintly portrayed by the letters “ Icliick,” lie endeav- 
ored to start his horses. But this was no such easy matter. The 
near-side horse, the moment he felt the collar, ran back, pulb'ng 


106 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


against his companion, who returned the compliment by rearing 
and striking with his loiefeet at the groom who attempted to hold 
him. 

“ Steady there!” cried Lewis. “ Pat his neck; that’s right. Quiet, 
horse! stand, sir! One of you call those men here,” he added, 
pointing to a couple of laborers who were digging in a slip of ground 
near. ” Now, my men,” he resumed, as they came up, ” take hold 
of the spokes of the hind wheels and move the carriage on when 1 
give you the signal are you ready? Stand clear; all right.” As 
he spoke he again attempted to si art the horses, and this time more 
successfully. 

The animal which had reared at the first attempt sprung forward, 
and finding the weight, which he had probably fancied w as immov- 
able, yield to his efforts, appeared anxious to proceed, but the other 
still hung back, and was partly dragged forw^ard by his yoke' 
fellow, partly pushed on by ihe men who were propelling the car- 
riage. Lewis again tried mild measures, but without effect; and at 
length, considering that the soothing system had been carried far 
enough, he drew the point of the w'hip smartly across the animal’s 
shoulder. In reply to this the recusant flung up his heels as high 
as the kicking-siraps would permit; but on a second and rather 
sharper application of the thong, he plunged forward, and threw 
hin\self into the collar with a bound that tried the strength of the 
traces; then, pulling like a steam-engine, appeared resolved to re- 
venge himself on his driver by straining every sinew of his arms to 
the utmost pitch of tension. But rowing, fencing, and other athletic 
exercises had rendered those arms as hard as iron; and though the 
swollen muscles rounded and stood out till his coat-sleeve w^as 
stretched almost to bursting, Lewis continued to hold the reins in a 
vise-like grasp, and the fiery liorses, arching iheir proud necks and 
tossing the foam-flakes from their champing jaws, w’ere compelled 
to proceed at a moderate pace. The grooms ran by tiu!ir sides for 
a snort distance, then, on a sign from Lewis, one of tlie men 
watched his opportunity, and scrambled up while the phaeton was 
still going on; the other, having opened a gate leading dowm a road 
through the park, remained gazing after them with looks of the 
deepest interest. 

” Well, sir, you’ve managed to start ’em easier than I expected,” 
observed the groom, as, in compliance with Lewis’s desire, he seated 
himsell at his side. ” Coachman was a good lialf hour a-getting 
’em out of the yard last time as they was put-to; that near-sider 
wouldn’t take the collar nohow.” 

” And yet he’ll turn out the belter horse of tbe two if he’s judici- 
ously managed,” returned Lewis. ” He has higher courage than 
his companion, tliough they’re both splendid animals; they only re- 
quire careful driving and working moderately every day to make as 
good a pair Df carriage liorses as a man need wish to sit behind.” 

” It ain’t the first time as you’ve handled the ribbons by a good , 
many, 1 should say, sir,” continued Bob Richards (for that w^as the 
man’s name, dear reader, although I’ve never had an opportunity 
of telling you so before); ” 1 see’d as you know’d w’hat you was 
about afore ever you got on the box.” 


LEWIS AKUKDEL. 10? 

“ Before 1 got up!” returned Lewis; ' how did you manage that^ 
my friend?” 

” Why, sir, the turst thino; as you did was to cast your eye over 
the liarness to see as all was right; then afore you ever put your toot 
on the step you took the reins into your hands, so that the minute- 
you was up you was ready for a bolt hif so be it had pleased Provi- 
dence to start the cattle off suddingly, Now anybody as wasn’t 
used to the ways of four-footed quadrupeds wouldn't never have 
thought of that.” 

”\our powers of observation do you credit,” returned Lewis, 
with di.liculiy repressing a smi e. ‘‘ You are right, 1 have been ac- 
customed to driving as you imagine;” and as he spoke the remem- 
brance of scenes and persons now far away came across him, and 
he thought with regret of pleasant hours passed with his young as- 
sociates in Germany, when the meie fact of his being an English- 
man caused him to be regarded as an oracle ou all matters connect- 
ed with horse flesh. 

While this conversation was taking place the iron-grays had pro- 
ceeded about a mile through the park, dancing and cuiveling, and 
staring on all sides as though they would tain shy at every object 
they discerned. 

” They are gradually dropping into a steadier pace, you see,” ob- 
served Lewis; ” they’ll be tired of jumping about and glad to trot 
without breaking, into a canter when they get a little warm to their 
work. Quiet, boy, quiet!” he continued, as the horses suddenly 
pricked up their ears and stared wildly about them; ” gently there, 
genily! What in the world are they frightened at now?” 

The question did not long remain a doubtful one, for in another 
minute a hollow, rushing sound became audible, and a herd of deer, 
startled by the rattling of the carriage, broke from a thicket hard by, 
and, bounding over the tall fern and stunted brushwood, darted 
across the road, their long thin legs and branching antlers, indis- 
tinctly seen in the gray light of an autumn da}', giving them a strange 
ana specler-like appearance. But Lewis had no time to trace fanci- 
ful resemblances, tor the hors«.s demanded all his attention. As the 
sound of pattering feet approached they began to pliuige violently; 
at the sight of the deer they slopped short, snorting and trembling 
with fright, and when the herd crossed the road before llieni, per- 
fectly maddened with terror, they reared till they nlmosl stood up- 
right; then, turning short round, they dashed off the load at right 
angles, nearly overturning the phaeton as they did so, and, break- 
ing iut'^ a mad gallop, despite all their driver’s efforts to restrain 
them, tore away with the speed of lightning. For a few seconds 
the sound of the wind, whistling past his ears, and oppressing his 
breath to a painful degree, contused Lewis and deprived him of the 
power of speech; hut the imminence of the danger and the necessity 
for calmness aud decision served to restore his self-possession; and 
turning lowmrd his companion, who, pale with terror, sat convul- 
sively grasping the rail of the seat, he inquired: 

” Can you recollect whether there are any ditches across the park 
in this direction?” 

“There ain’t no ditches, as 1 recollects,” \Nas the reply; “but 
there’s something a precious sight w'orser. It these devils go 


108 


LKNVIS AKl’XDEL. 


Straight ahead tor five minutes lonjrer at this pace we shall l>e 
(iasiu*d over the bank ot the lake into ten feet ot water.’' 

“ Yes, 1 remember, 1 see where we are now; the ground rises to 
tire left, and is clear ot trees and ditches, is it not?” asked Lewis. 

The groimi replied in the affirmative; and Lewis continued: 
‘‘Then we must endeavor to turn then:; do you take the whij), 
stand up and be ready to assist me at the right moment. What are 
you thinking ot?” he continued, seeing ihe man hesitated, and was 
apparently measuring with his eye the distance from the step to the 
ground; “ it would be madness to .lump out while we are going at 
this rate. Be cool, anxl we shall do very well yet.” 

“I'm aorreeable to do whatever you tells me, only be quick about 
it, sir,” rejoined the groom; ” for if it comes to jumping boat or 
sitting still to be drownded, bout 1 goes, that’s flat, tor 1 never 
could abear cold water.” 

” 1 ■suppose the reins are strong and to be trusted?” inquired 
Lewis. 

” Nearly new, sir,” was the reply. 

” Then be ready; and when 1 tell you, exert yourself,” continued 
Lewis. 

While these remarks passed between the two occupants ot the 
phaeton the horses still continued their mad career, resisting all at- 
tempts to check the Irighttul speed at which thev were hurrying on 
toward certain destruction. A.s they dashed past a. clump ot shrubs 
whicli bad Iiitherio concealed from view the danger to which they 
were exposed, the lull peril of their situation became evident to the 
eyes ot Lewis and his companion. YVith steep and broken banks, 
on which American shrubs, mixed with flags and bulrushes, grew^ 
in unbounded luxuriance, the lake lay stretched before them; its 
clear depths reflecting the leaden hue of the wintery sky, and a slight 
breeze from the north rippling its polished surface. Less than a 
quarter of a mile of smooth greensward separated them from their 
dangerous neighbor. An artist would have longed to seize tiiis 
moment tor transferring to canvas or to marble the expression of 
Lewis’s features. As he perceived the nearness and reality of the 
danger ihat threatened him, his spiiit rose with the occasion, and 
calm self-reliance, dauntless courage, and an energetic determina- 
tion to subdue ihe infuriated animals before him, at whatever risk, 
lent a brilliancy to his flashing eye and imparted a look of stern re- 
solve t(» his flnel}'' cut mouth, which invested his unusual beauty with 
a character of superhuman power, such as the sculptors of antiquity 
sought to immortalize in their statues of heroes and demigods. 
Seleciingan open space of turf unencumberd with trees or other 
obstacles, Lewis once more addressed his companion, saying: 

” Now be ready; I am going to endeavor to turn them to the lefi 
so as to get their heads away from the lake and up hill ; but as 1 shall 
require both hands and all my strength for tlie reins, 1 want you to 
stand up and touch them smartly with the wliip on tlie off-side of 
the neck; if you do this at the ritht moment it will help to bring 
them round. Do 5 ^Du understand me?” 

Richards replied in the affirmative, and Lewis, leaning forward 
and shortening his grasp on the reins, worked the moutlis of tlie 
horses till he got their heads well up; then assuring himself by a 


LEWIS AitUNDKL. 


109 


glance that his companion was ready, he checked their speed by a 
^•reat exertion of strength: and lightening the left rein suddenly, 
the groom at the same moment applying the whip as he had been 
desired, the fiery steeds, springing from the lash and 3 delding to the 
pressure of the bit, altered their course, and going round so sharply 
that the phaeton was again within an ace of being overturned, 
dashed forward in an opposite direction. 

You did that uncommon well, to be sure, sir,’' exclaimed Rich- 
ards, drawing a long breath like one relieved from the pressure of 
a painful weight. “ 1 thought we was over once though; it was a 
precious near go. ” 

“ A miss is as good as a mile,” returned Lewis, smiling. “ Do 
you see?” he continued, ” they are slackening their pace; the hill 
is beginning to tell upon them already. Hand me the whip; 1 
shall give these gentlemen a bit of a lesson before 1 allow them to 
stop, just to convince them that running away is not such a pleas- 
ant amusement as they appear to imagine.” 

8o saying, he wailed till the horses began sensibly to relax their 
speed; then bolding them tightly in baud, lie puuislied them preily 
severely and gave them a good deal mere running than they liked 
before he permitted them to stop, the nature of the ground (a gentle 
ascent of perfectly smooth turf) allowing him to inflict this disci- 
pline with impunity. 

After proceeding two or three miles at the same speed be per- 
ceived another cross-road running through the park. Gradually 
pulling up as he approached it he got his horses into a walk, and 
as soon as they had once again exchanged grass tor gravel lie 
stopped them to recover wind. The groom got aown, and gather- 
ing a handful of fern, wiped the foam fromlheir mouths and the 
perspiration from their reeking flanks 

” You’ve given ’em a pretty tidy warming though, sir,” he ob- 
served. ” If 1 was you 1 would not keep ’em standing too long.” 

‘‘ How far are we irom the house, do you imagine?” inquired 
Lewis. 

” About, three mile, 1 should say,” returned Richards; ” it will 
take you nigh upon half an hour if you diives ’em easy.” 

Lewis looked at his watch, muttering, ” More than an hour to 
Walter’s dinner-time.” He then continued, ” Get up, Richards; 1 
have not quite done with these horses;” adding, in reply to the 
man’s questioning glance, as he reseated himself, “ I’m only going 
to teach them that a herd of deer is not such a frightful object as 
they seem to imagine it.” 

” Surety you’re never a-goin’ to take ’em near the deer again, Mr. 
Arundel; they’ll never stand it, sir,” expostulated Richards. 

‘‘You can get down if you like,” observed Lewis, with the 
slightest possible shade of contempt in his tone; ” 1 will pick you 
lip liere as 1 return.” 

Richards was a thorough John Bull, and it is a well-known fact 
that to hint to one of that enlightened race that he is afraid to do 
the most insane deed imaginable is quite suflicient to determine him 
to go through with it at all hazards; accordingly the individual iu 
question pressed his hat on his brows, to be prepared for the worst, 
ann folding liis arms with an air of injured dignity, sat sullenly 


110 LE\yiS ARUNDEL. 

hopinjz for an overturn, 'which might prove him right even at the 
risk of a broken neck. 

Lewis’s quick eye haU discerned the herd of deer against a dark 
background of trees, which had serv^ed to screen them from tlie less 
acute perceptions of the servant, and he now contrived, by Stirling 
the atoresaid belt of Scotch firs, to biing the phaeton near the place 
where the deer were stationed without disturbing them, so that the 
horses were able clearl}' to see the creatures wliich had before so 
greatly alarmed them. It has been often remarked tliat horses aro 
greatly terrified by an object seen but indistinctly, at which, when 
they are able to obser«?^e it more closely, they will show no signs 
of tear. Whether for this reason or that the discipline they had 
undergone had cooled their courage, and taught them the necussity 
for obedience, the iron-grays approached the herd of deer wiihout 
attempting to repeat the maneuver which had been so nearly prov- 
ing fatal to their driver and his companion. Lewds drove them up 
and down once or twice, each time decreasing the distance belw'een 
the horses and the animals, to whose sight he wished to accustom 
them, 'Without any attempt at rebellion on their part, beyond a slight 
pretense tor using their hind legs only in progression and a veiy be- 
coming determination to arch their necks and point their ears after 
the fashion of those high spirited impossibilities which do duty for 
liorses in Greek friezes, and in the heated imagination of young lady 
artists who possess a wonderful (a ncry wonderful) talent for sketch- 
ing animals. Having continued this amusement till the deer once 
again conveyed themselves away, Lewis, delighted at having carried 
his point and overcome the difticullies which had opposed him, 
drove gently back to Broadhurst; and having committed the reeking 
horses to the care of a couple of grooms, who began hissing at them 
like a 'wdiole brood of serpents, reiurned to make his report and 
soothe the tribulation of that hyena in petticoats, Miss Martha Liv- 
ingstone. 


CHAPTER XVI II 

CHARLEY LEICESTER BEWAIIiS HIS CRUEI. MISFORTUNE. 

Frere’s answer to Lewis’s note made its appearance at Broad- 
hurst on the morning of the second day aftei’ that on which the 
events narrated in the previous chapter look place. It ran as follows : 

“ Hear Lewis, — 1 think I’ve told you before (if it w’asn’t you it 
was 3mur sister, which is much the same thing) not to -write such a 
pack of nonsense ns ‘ adding to my many kindnesses,’ and all that 
sort of stuff, because it’s just so much time and trouble W'asted. 1 
see no particular kindness in it, that’s the fact. Aon and she live 
in the country, and I in (owm; and if Ihere is anything that either 
of you want here, why, of course, it’s natural to tell me to get or do 
it for you; and as to apologizing or making pretty speeches every 
time you require anything, it’s slieer folly; besides, 1 like doing the 
things for )mu; if 1 didn’t, I wouldn’t do them, you may depend 
Ufion that; so no more of such rubbish ‘ au you love me.’ Anci 
now" touching those interesting, or rather interested individuals. 


LEWIS AKUXDEL. 


Ill 


Messrs. Jones and Levi. 1 thought wlien 1 read liieir lelter, they 
were rascals, or thereabouls, but a personal interview placed the 
matter beyond doubt; and, it you take my advice, you’ll see them 
— well, never mina where — but keep your £10 in 3 ^our pocket, that's 
all; depend upon it they are more used to making rich men poor 
than poor ones rich. However, I’ll tell you all their sayings and 
doings, as tar as 1 am acquainted therewith, and then 5 mu can judge 
for yourself. As soon as 1 received your leiter 1 trudged oft into 
the City, found the den of thieves — 1 mean the lawyers’ office— of 
which 1 was in search; sent in my card by an unclean Israelite, with 
a pen behind each ear, and ink all over him, whom 1 look to be a 
clerk; and by the same unsavory individual was ushered into the 
presence of Messrs. Jones and Levi. Jones was a long cadaverous- 
looking animal, with a clever, bad tace and the eye of a hawk; Levi, 
a fat Jew, and apparently a German into the bargain, with a cun- 
ning expression of countenance and a cringing manner, who gave 
one the idea of Paving been fed on oil-cake till he had become some- 
thing of the sort himself; a kind of man wlio, it you had put a wick 
into him, wouldn’t have made a bad caudle, only one would have 
longed so to snuft him out. Well, 1 soon told these worthies wdiat 
I was come about, and then waited to hear all they had to say for 
themselves. The Gentile, being the most richly gifted with speech, 
took upon him to reply: 

“ ‘ Let me ofter you a chair, Mr. Frere, sir. Deiightetl to have 
the honor of making your acquaintance. 1 speak for my partner 
and myself— eh, Mr. Levi?’ 

“’In courshe, shir. Moosh playsiire, Misthur Vreer, shur,’ 
muttered Levi, who spoke through Ids nose, after the manner of 
modern Israelites, as if that organ were afflicted with a permanent 
cold. 

“ When 1 had seated myself Jones returned to the attack by ob- 
serving: ‘ Our letter contained a certain definite and specific ofter. 
Does Mr. Arundel agree to that, Mr. Frere, sir?’ 

“ ‘ Mr, Arundel lias placed the matter entirely in my hands, Mr. 
Jones,’ replied 1; ‘ and before 1 can agree to anything 1 must under- 
stand clearly what benefit my friend is likely to derive from the in- 
lormation hinted at in your letter.’ 

“ ‘ May 1 inquire, Mr. Frere, sir, whether you are a professional 
man?’ asked Jones. 

“ ’ If you mean a lawyer, Mr. Jones,’ replied 1, ‘ 1 am thankful to 
say 1 am not.’ 

“ I suppose he did not exactly relish my remark, for he resumed, 
in a less amicable tone than he had used before: 

“ ‘ 1 believe the letter to which 1 have already referred contained 
a clear statement of the only ’ (he emphasized the word strongly) 
‘ terms upon which we should be disposed to communicate the in- 
formation,’ and he glanced toward his partner, who echoed: 

“ * De only turmsh.’ 

“ ‘ Then, gentlemen ’ (gentlemen, indeed!) ‘ I beg most distinctly to 
inform you that my friend shall never with my consent pa^' £10 
down and become liable for £200 more, dependent on a contingency 
which will no doubt be provided against, on the mere chance that 


LEWIS aiU'N1);:l. 


IVZ 


some information in your possession may icier lo the exciting enuse 
of bis father’s death and prove valuable to him.’ 

“ ‘ De informal ionsh ish mosth faluaple,’ broke in Levi. 

“ * 1 beg pardon, Mr. Levi,’ exclaimed Jones quickly, ‘ but 1 be- 
lieve we agreed this matter was to be left to my management?* 

“ Levi nodded his large Head and looKed contrite, while Jones 
continued: ' In that case, Mr. Frere, sir, 1 have only to add tWt if 
Mr. Arundel lefuses to comply with our terms we shall not part 
with the information on any others; at the same time 1 should. ad- 
vise him to reconsider the matter, for 1 do not hesitate to say that 1 
quite coincide with Mr. Levi in his opinion concerning lire impor- 
tance of the information which is in our possession.’ 

•* As he said this, an idea occurred to me, and 1 replied: 

“ Suppose, instead of the bond for £200 in the event of some con- 
tingency which may never occur, Mr. Arundel were willing to pay 
£20 down for the information, would you agree to that?’ 

“ ‘ Say viye and dirtyish,’ put in the Jew, his dull eyes brighten- 
ing at the prospect of money. ‘ Say vIve and dirtyish, and it should 
be von parganish.’ 

“ ‘ Would you agree to take that sum, Mr. Jones?’ asked 1. 

“ He glanced at his partner with a slight contraction of the 
brow, and Bhoo«i his head; but the spirit of avarice aroused in the 
Jew was not so easily to be put down, and he continued in a more 
positive tone than he had yet Ventured to use. 

“ ‘ Yesh, 1 dosh agree Me and my bardiier, ve vill take the 
vive and dirtysh pounds, ready monish, Mr. Vreer.’ 

“ ’ JNot quite so fast, my good sir,’ returned 1; ‘ if you are so very 
ready to give up tlie bond for £200, to be paid in case the infoima- 
tion should prove as valuable as you assert it to be, the natural in- 
ference is that you 3 ^ourselt have mighty little faith in the truth of 
your assertion; and, as i happen to be pretty much of that way of 
thinking also, 1 shall wish jmu hotli good- morning. ’ 

“ So saying, I put on my hat and walked out of the room, leaving 
the Jew and the Gentile to fight it out to their own satisfaction. 

“ 1 had not a very strong affection for lawyers belore, and I can’t 
gay this visit has served to endear the profession to me very particu- 
larly. You know the old story of the man who defined the differ- 
ence between an attorney and a solicitor to be much the same as that 
between an alligator and a crocodile. Well, Messrs. Jones and Levi 
realized such a definition to the life, foi a more detestable brace of 
rascals 1 never encountered; and, depend upon it, the less you have 
to do with them the better; at least, such is the opinion of yours, 
forever and a day (always supposing such an epoch of time may 
exist), 

‘ ‘ Kiciiakd Fheke. ' * 

“ So,” exclaimed Lewis, refolding the letter, ” that chauce has 
failed me. Well, 1 never expected anything would come of it; and 
yet— heigho! 1 certainly was born under an unlucky star. 1 think 
Frere w*as rather precipitate. According to liis account of his pm- 
ceeciings, he seems to have felt such an intense conviction that the 
men were rascals that he went there rather for the purpose ct ^ x 
posing them than to investigate the mutter. lie prejudged the liues- 


LEWIS AKUJSTDEL. 


11:3 


tion. However, i have no doubt the result would have been the 
same in any case. What a bore it is that men will be ropjues! i 
shall have out those horses again after alter has got through his 
lesson; if they go quietly 1 shall take him with me for a drive to- 
morrow.*’ And, thus communing with himself, he summoned 
Walter and commenced the usual morning routine. 

Miss Livingstone had, by Lewis’s advice, ordered post-horses to 
the carriage, and was in that way enabled to accomplish her round 
of visits. Lewis carried out his intention of driving the iron-grays, 
who conducted themselves with so much propriety that on the fol- 
lowing day he took his pupil with him; and finding the drive pleased 
and amused the poor boy, be repeated it every fine day. Thus a 
week slipped away, and the time for the general’s return arrived. It 
was late on the afternoon of the day on w^hich he was expected, 
and Lewis was wearily assisting poor Walter to spell through a page 
of dissyllables, when that peculiar graveJ-griuding sound became 
audible which, in a country house, necessarily precedes ah arrival. 
Then there was a great bustle, as of excited servants, a Babel-like 
confusion of tongues, bumps and thumps of heavy luggage, much 
trampling of feet, ringing of bells, and slamming of doors; liieii 
the sounds grew fainter, ceased at intervals, and at last became in^ 
audible. The house was no longer masterless — General Grant had 
returned. Walter’s attention, by no means easy to command for 
five minutes together at the best of times, became so entirely 
estranged by the commotion above alluded to, that Lewis closed 
the book in despair, and told Walter to go and play with Faust, 
who, silting upright on a rug in front of the fire, w^as listening with 
the deepest interest to all that passed in the hall, and was only re- 
strained from barking by a strict sense of propriety operating on a 
welbdisciplined mind. The boy gladly obeyed, and Lewis, resting 
his aching head on his hand, fell into deep thought — he thought of 
old times when, head of his class at a public school, alike leader 
and idol of the little world in which he moved, his young ambii ion 
had shaped out for itself a career in which the bar, the tench, ilie 
senate, were to be but stepping-stones to the highest honors which 
energy aud talent might attain, and he contrasted his present posi- 
tion with the ideal future his boyish fancy had depicted. Then he 
bethought him of the tyrant who commanded that a livine’ man 
should be chained to a corpse, aud considered how the cold aud 
numbing influence of the dead, gradually paralyzing the vital energy 
of the living, was, as it were, typical of his own late. He could uot 
but be conscious of unusual powers of mind, for he had tested them 
in the struggle for honors with the deep and subtle thinkers of Ger- 
many, and had come oft victorious; and to refiect that these talents, 
which might have insured him success in the game of life were con- 
demned to be wasted in the wearying attempt to call forth the faint 
germs of reason in the mind of an almost childish idiot! The thought 
was a bilter one; aud yet for mouths past he bad felt resigned to 
his fate; and the deep interest betook in his pupil’s improvement, 
together with the time such a quiet life afforded for reflection and 
Self-Knowledge, had rendered him contented, if not what is conven- 
tionally termed happy. To what then should he attribute his pres- 
ent frame of mind? At this moment a tap at the study door inter- 


114 


LEWIS AHUKDEL. 


Tupted bis meditations, and be was unable to pursue bis selt-analysis 
turtber. Had be done so be might possibly have discovered that 
piide, bis besetting sin, lay at the root of the evil. As long as be 
lived in comparative seclusion bis duties sat easily upon him; but 
now that be was again ajtiout to mix in society his position as tutor 
became galling in the extreme to. bis haughty nature. As be beard 
the summons above mentioned, be starred from bis reverie, and 
sweeping bis hair from bis forehead by a motion of bis band, ex- 
claimed, “Come in.’ As be spoke the door opened, and our old 
acquaintance, Charley Leicester, lounged into the room. 

“ Ah! bow do ye do, Arundel?” be began in bis usual languid 
tone. “ I know all the ins and outs of this v^lace, and 1 thought I 
should find you here. This used to be my den once upon a time; 
many a holiday’s task have 1 loitered over in this venerable apart- 
ment. Is that your incubus?’' be continued in a lower tone, glanc- 
ing toward Walter. “Handsome features, poor fellow!— does he 
understand what one says?” 

“Scarcely, unless you speak to him individually,” returned 
Lewis; “ you may talk as you please before him; the chances are be 
will not attend; but if be does he will only understand a bit here 
and there, and even that be will forget the next moment when some 
trifle occurs to put it out of bis bead. Walter, come and shake 
hands with this gentleman!” 

Thus spoken to, Walter turned sheepishly away, and, stooping 
down, bid his face behind Faust. Lewis’s iroutli grew stern. 
“ Faust, come here, sir!” The dog arose, looked wistfully at bis 
playfellow, licked bis band loving’y, then walking across the loom, 
crouched down at bis master’s teet. 

“Now, Walter, look at me.” At this second appeal the boy 
raised bis eyes to Lewis’s face. “ Go and shake bauds with Mr. 
Leicester.” 

“ Don’t worry him on my account, pray, my dear Arundel,” iu- 
torposed Leicester good-naturedly. 

“ The general makes a great point of his being introduced to 
every one; and 1 make a great point of his doing as 1 bid him,” 
returned Lewis with marked emphasis. 

But if was unnecessary, if meant as a bint to Walter, for bis 
tutor’s ej'-e appeared to possess a power of fascination over him; no 
sooner did be meet bis glance than be arose from bis kneeling posi- 
tion, and going up to Leicester, held out bis baud, saying, “ How 
ao you do?” 

Charley shook bands with him kindly, asked him one or two sim- 
ple questions, to which be replied witli tolerable readiness; then, 
obs'^rving that bis eyes were fixed on a silver-mounted cane be held 
in bis band, be inquired whether be tliougbt it pretty, and receiv- 
ing an answer in the affirmative, added, “ Then you may take it to 
amuse ymurself with if you like.” 

A smile of childish delight proved that the offer was an acceptable 
one; and carrying off bis treasure with him, and calling Faust, who 
on a sign from bis master gladly obeyed the summons, be betook 
bimeelf to the furtbei end of the room', which was a very large one, 
and began amusing himself with bis canine associate. Leicester 
gazed at him for a minute or two, and then observed; 


LEWIS ARUJ^DEL. 


115 


Wbat a sad pity! Such a fine-grown, handsome lad, too! Why, 
in a year or two he will be a man in appearance with the mind of a 
child- Docs he improve ilmicIi?” 

“ Yes, he improves steadily, but very slowly,” returned Lewis. 

Leicester wandered dreamily up to a chimney-glass, arranged his 
hair with an air of deep abstraction, pulled up his shirt collar, 
caressed his whiskers, then, separating the tails of a nondescript gar- 
ment which gave one the idea ot a cutaway coat trying to look like a 
shooting jacket, he extended his legs so as to form two sides of a 
triangle, and subjecting his frigid zone to the genial influence ot the 
fire, he enjoyed the mysterious delight afforded to all true-born En- 
glishmen by the peculiar position above indicated for some minutes 
in silence. At length he sighed deeply, and muttered, ” lleigho! it’s 
no use thinking about it.” 

” Tnat depends on what it is, and how jmu set to worir to think,” 
returned Lewis. 

” 'riiat may do as the general rule,” continued Leicester; ” but it 
won’t apply to the case in point. The thing 1 was trying to cipher 
out, as the Tankees call it, is the incomprehensible distribution of 
property in this sublunary life. JN'ow look at that poor boy — a stick 
for a playlhiug and a dog for a companion make him perfectly 
happy. Those are his only superfluous requirements, winch, to- 
gether with eating, dtinking, clothing, and lodging, might be pro- 
vided for £300 a year; instead of that, when he is twenty-one, he 
will come into from £8,000 to £10,000 per annum, besides no end of 
savings during liis minority. Well, to say nothing of your own 
case ” (Lewis’s cheek kindled and his eye flashed, but Leicester, ab- 
sorbed in his own thoughts, never noticed it, and continued) — 
” though with 3 'our talenU, a little loose cash to give you a fair start 
might be the making of you— just look at my wretched position— 
the sou and brother ot a peer, brought up in all kinds of expensive 
habits, mixing in the best set at Eton and at Oxford, the chosen as-* 
sociate of men of large property, introduced into the highest society 
in London — of course 1 must do as others do; 1 can’t help myself. 
There are certain things' necessary to a young man about town— just 
as indispensable as smc ck- frocks and bacon are to a plowman. 
For instance, to live one must dine — to dine one must belong to a 
club. Tlien London is a good large place, even if one ignores 
everything east of T emple Bar — one must keep a cab, it bat to save 
bool-leather — that entails a horse and a tiger. Again, for four 
months in the .year people talk about nothing but the opera — one can’t 
hold one’s tongue for four months, you know — that renders a stall 
indispensable, it's the fashi!)n to wear white kid gloves, and the 
whole of London comes off black on ever 5 dhing, so there’s a fine of 
3s. 6d. a night only for having hands at the ends of one’s arms. 
The atmosphere ot the metropolis is composed chiefly of smoke— 
the only kind of smoke one can swallow without being choked is 
tobacco smoke; besides, life without cigars woula be a desert with- 
ou an oasis — but unfoilunately Havanas don’t bang on every bodge. 

1 might multiply instances ad infinitum, but the thing is self-evidei;t 
— to provide all these necessaries a man must possess money or 
credit, and 1 unfortunately have more of the latter than the formei 
article. It is, as 1 have explained to you, utterly impossible for me 


116 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


to exist on less tl an—say £1,000 a year; and even with iny slmre of 
my poor mother's tortnne, and the governor’s allowance, my net 
income doesn’t amount to £800; ergo, half the London and all the 
Oxford tradesmen possess little manuscript volumes containing in- 
teresting reminiscences of my private life. It’s no laughing matter, 
1 can assure you,” he continued, seeing Lewis smile; ” there’s noth- 
ing cramps a man’s ” — hhre he released a coat-tail in order to raise 
his hand to conceal a yawn — ” augh! what do you call ’em? — ener- 
gies— so much as having a load ot debt hanging round his neck. It 
it hadn’t been for those confounded Oxford bills checking me at first 
starting, ’pon my word 1 don’t know that 1 might not haTe done 
something, 1 had ideas about a parliamentary career at one time, 1 
can assure you, or diplomacy— any fool’s good enough for an 
Now\ if 1 Imd that poor, boy’s fortune and he had mine, wdiat an 
advantage it would be to both of us; he’ll never know wdiat to do 
'with his money, and 1 should — rather 1 Just fancy me with £10.000 
a year, and a coat on my back that w'as paid for — by Jove, 1 should 
not know myself! Ah, well! it’s no use talking about if, but 1 am 
an unlucky beggar,” 

” But,” interposed Lewis eagerly, ” if you reall}^ dislike the life 
you lead so much, why don’t you break through all these irammeis 
ot conveniionabty and strike out some course for yourself? With 
£8C0 a year lo ward oft poverty, and the interest you might com- 
mand, what a splendid career lies before you! Werel in your posi- 
tion, instead of desponding, 1 should deem myself singularly fort- 
unate.” 

‘‘ So you might, my dear fellow,” returned Leicester after paus- 
ing for a minute to regard Lewis with a smile ot languid w'onder. 
“So you might. With your talents and— and wonderful power of 
getting np the steam, and keeping it at high pressure, 1 dare say we 
should see you a field marshal it you took to the red cloth and pipe- 
clay trade; or on the woolsack, if you ])referred joining the long- 
robed gentlemen. Kow, 1 haven’t got that sort of thing in me; 1 
'was born to be a man of property, and nothing else; but the absurd- 
ity of the thing is the bringing a man into the world fit only for one 
purpose, and then placing him in a ‘ position in which,’ to use the 
cant of the day, he can’t fulfil his mission at any price. It’s just 
as it nature were to make a carnivorous animal and then turn it out 
to grass,” 

Having delivered himself of this opinion, with the air ot a deeply 
injured man, the Honorable diaries Leicester consulted a minute 
Geneva watch with an enameled back; and replacing it in his waist- 
coat pocket, continued, “ Five o’clock — 1 shall just have lime lo 
smoke a cigar before it is necessar}'^ to dress for dinner. 1 presume 
tobacco is a contraband article in the interior of this respectable 
dwelling house?” 

” A salutary dread of IVIiss Livingstone’s indignation lias prevent- 
ed me from ever trying such au experiment,” returned Lewis. 

“ Well, 1 won't run the risk of offending the good lady,” replied 
Leicester. “ Aunt Martha has a wonderful knack of blighting the 
"vvhole family for the rest ot the daj'^ it one liappcns lo run against 
one of her pet prejudices. By the way, you must have found her a 
most interesting companion?” 


LEWIS A li LM)£L. 


117 


We arc great friends, 1 can assure yon,” rejoined Lewis; ** st-.e 
condescemts to patronize me most benignanlly; but L have not 
spoken halt a dozen times with her in as many months.” 

‘ 1 suppose she has enlightened you as to the events about to 
come off during the next three weeks?” 

” By no means. Beyond the fact of the general’s return, and the 
information that the house was to be filled with people. Miss Liv- 
ingstone has allowed me to remain in a state of the most lamentable 
ignorance.” 

” What! have not you heard that the county is vacant, and the 
general has been persuaded to allow himself to be nominated as a 
candidate an the Conservative interest?” 

But i thought he was already member for the borough of 
A ?” 

“Yes; he will resign that if he succeeds for the county. Oh, 
you’re quile in the dark, 1 see; we mean to stir heaven and earth to 
get him in. My father gives him all his interest — Bellefield is com- 
ing down to stir up the tenantry. You know w’e (that is. Bell and 
the governor) have large estates in the county; Bell can do a little 
courting in between whiles, and so kill two birds with one stone. 
And who else do you think is coming? — a very great man, I can 
assure you; no less a personage in fact than— ar — De Grande- 
ville! He has been induced to — ar— ” (and here he mimicked i)e 
Grandeville’s pompous manner inimitabl,y) ” throw his little influ- 
ence -ar — into the scale and — ar — show himself on the hustings, 
and— ar— arrange one or two matters which will, in fact— ar — render 
the thing secure! The plain truth being that he really is a good 
man of business, and the general has engaged him as an election- 
eering agent. Well, then, there are a lot of people coming besides; 
and there will be balls and dinners given to halt the county. In 
short, the general means to do the thing in style, and spend as 
much money as would keep me out of debi f(*r the next three years. 
Several parties arrive to-morrow, so the general brought Annie and 
me down with him as a sort of advance guard. There will be some 
fun, 1 dare say; but an awful deal of trouble to counterbalance it. 
1 shall lose my cigar though if I stand gossiping here any longer. 
J.et me see, the nearest w^^y to the stables will be to jump oiu of 
tliat window; deduct the distance saved from the amount of exer- 
tion in leaping, and the remaiiider will be the gain of a minute and 
a half. Well, time is precious, sooff we go. I suppose you appear 
in the course of the evening? Take care, Walter; that is right.” 

Thus saying, he flung open the window, sprung out with more 
agility than from his usual listless movements might have been ex- 
pected, pulled the sash down again, and, having nodded good-nat- 
uredly to Walter, disappeared. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

SOME OF THE CHARACTERS FALL OUT, AND OTHERS FALL IN. 

General Grant felt, and expressed himself, greatly delighted 
at tlie marked improvement which had taken place in his w\ard’s 
manner and appearance, and attributing it with justice to Lewis’s 


118 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


judicious management, that young gentleman rose many degrees in 
his employer’s tavor. Tiie gent*raj was essentially a practical man 
— he was entlowed with a clear head and sound judi^menl, and be- 
ing happily devoid of that inconvenient oriran, a heart (whence pro 
ceed, among other reprehensible emigiants, the wliole host of 
amiable weaknesses which only gaiti for their proprietor that most 
useless, because unsalable article— aftection), he looked upon his fel- 
low criiatures as machines, and weiching them in the balance, patron- 
ized those only who were not found wanting. Lewis had proved 
himself a good teaching machine, and the general valued him ac- 
cordingly. 

“ Tlie great point now, Mr. Arundel, he said, “ is to endeavor 
to expand your pupil’s mind: you have developed in him (and 1 
give you great credit for the degree of success you have altaiued) 
powers of acquiring knowledge— those powers must be cultivated; he 
must have opportunities afforded him of seeing and judging for 
himself; and to this end it is my wish that he should mix as much 
as possible in society. 1 am about to entertain a large part}* at Broad- 
hurst, and 1 conceive it will be a desiiable opportunity to accustom 
Walter to the presence of strangers, and to enabki him, by the force 
of example acting on his imitative powers, to acquire the habits and 
manners of those of his own rank. I should therefore propose that 
after two o’clock on each day your puf>il and yourself should join 
the family ciicle and enter into any schemes for amusement or ex- 
ercise which may be pioposed. 1 consider myself most foitnnaie,” 
continued the general, with a little patronizing inclination of the 
liead toward Lewis, “ to have secured the services of a geutlemaa 
whom 1 can with such entire satisfaction present to my friends.” 

In compliance with this injunction Lewis was forced, much 
against his will, to withdraw from the retirement under the shadow 
of which he had hitherto contrived to seieen himself from those 
annoyances to wliich bis dcpenilent situation exposed him, and 
\vhich his sensitive nature led him especially to dread. (In the fol- 
lowing day arrivals succeeded one another with great rapidity, and 
w'hen Lewis joined the party after luncheon liiere w^ere several faces 
with which he was acquainted. One, however immediately ar- 
rested his attention, and turning to Leicester, he inquired ths name 
of the person in question. 

“Eh! the man with mustaches? What! don’t you know him?” 
exclaimed Leicester— if, indeed, the slow languid manner in which 
that young gentleman was accustomed to promulgate his sentiments 
cm be properly so termed. ‘‘ How very oddi 1 thought every- 
body knew him; that’s my frere ahie, Bellefield: come with me and 
I’ll introduee you.” 

“Excuse me,” returned Lewis, drawing back witli a flushed 
cheek as the recollection of the scene on the banks of the 8efpentiue 
came vividly before him; “1 had no idea it w'as your brother; 1 
never imagined for a moment—” 

“My dear Arundel, don’t agitate yourself; as a general rule 
there’s nothing in this life worth getting up the steam about,” re- 
turned Leicester, drawing on a kid glove. “Bellefield will be ex- 
tremely happy to make your acquaintance— in fact, lie is always 
extremely happy— if you were to cut your throat before his very 


LEWIS- ARUNDEL. 


119 


eyes, he would be extremely happy, and, if he thought you did it 
well, probably fold his arms and ask what you would take for the 
razor, and be extremely happy to buy it of you. But as he'll be 
constantly here, there exists a positive necessity for you to know him 
—so come along.” 

Thus saying, Charley Leicester linked his arm in that of Lewis, 
and carried him off, nolens volens, to be introduced to his brother. 

Lord Belletield, having seen Lewis only once before, and under 
very peculiar circumstances, did not immediately recognize him; 
and iiaving made up his mind that for electioneering purposes it 
was necessary to bear all species of social martyrdom amiably, un- 
derwent his introduction to Lewis with great resignation, curling up 
his mustache and showing his white teeth in a ready madesmile—of 
which article he had always a stock on hand-most condescending- 

ly- 

Lewis's was, however, a face that once seen it was not easy to 
forget; moreover, there was at that moment an expression gleaming 
in his dark eyes not altogether consistent with the conventional in- 
difference befitting a mere social introduction, and Lord Bellefield 
was too close an observer not to notice it. 

‘‘ I’ve a strange idea I’ve seen you somewhere before, Mr. Arun- 
del,” he remarked. 

” If 1 am not much mistaken,” returned Lewis, ” your lordship 
once did me the honor,” — and he laid a slightly sarcastic emphasis 
on the words—” to offer me a sum of money for a favorite dog.” 

There was something in Lewis’s manner as he uttered these 
words which show’ed that he had neither forgotten nor forgiven the 
insult that had been offered him. Lord Bellefield perceived it, and 
replied with a half sneer. ” Ay, 1 recollect now — you jumped into 
the water to fish him out; and 1 naturally imagined that, as you 
appeared to set such store by him, you must expect to make money 
of him. Have you got him still?” 

3.jewis replied in the affirmative, and his lordship continued: 

” Well, I’ll give you your own price tor him any day you like to 
name the sum.” 

Without waiting tor an answer, he turned away and began con- 
versing in an undertone with his Cousin Annie. 

” Sol you’re old acquaintances it seems?” ashed Leicester. 
” Frere told me about the dog business, but 1 never knew till now 
that it had been Bellefield who offered you money for him. 1 can 
see you were annoyed about it. Bell fancies money can buy ever}''- 
thing (which is pretty true in the long run), and a dog is a dog to 
him, and nothing more; he’d never dreaic of making a friend of 
one; in fact he votes friendship a bore altogether; so you most not 
think any more of his insult to Herr Faust. What are people going 
to do this afternoon? I wish somebody would settle something. 
Annie, just attend to me a minute, will you— what are we going to 
do?” 

” Papa talked of a skating party oh the lake,” returned Annie, 
” but I’ve had no definite orders. Where can papa be? — do go and 
looK for him, Charles.” 

” Is he in the house, think you?” inquired Charles, rising lan- 
guidly, and gazing round with a look of dreamy helplessness. 


1--20 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


“ 1 saw General Grant cross the lawn with a gentleman— Mr, 
De Grandeville, 1 believe — not live minutes since,” observed Lewis, 

“ Exactly; then as you Know where to find him, Arundel, 1 dare 
say you’ll be kind enough to tell him that —what was it, Annie?’ ' 
siiid Leicester, reseating himself in an easy-chair with an expression 
ot intense relief. 

” Charley, how idle you are! 1 am quite ashamed of you,” ex- 
claimed Anne, vehemently; then, turning to Lewis, she continued: 
“ If you would be so kind, Mr. Arundel, as to ask papa whether 
the lake scheme holds good, and if we are to walk or drive there, 1 
should be so much obliged to you.” 

Lewis signified his willingness to execute her wishes, and calling 
to Walter to accompany him, left the room. 

“ Well, Annie, how do you like Jiewis Arundel by this time?” 
inquired her cousin. ‘‘ Wasn’t 1 right in telling you he was quite 
a catch?” 

‘‘ Yes, indeed,” returned Annie warmly; ” and he is so kind and 
clever to that poor Walter; 1 don’t know what we should do with- 
out him. I think it is quite delightful to see his manner toward 
him, poor boy! it combines all the tenderness of a woman with the 
fiimness of a man, he is so patient and forbearing with him; but it 
must in some degree repay him for his trouble to see the improve- 
ment he has effected and the strong affection he has inspired, 
Waltei absolutely seems to dote upon him.” 

” i\ most desirable acquisition, certainly, the affection of an 
idiot,” observed Lord Bellefield, with a satirical curl of the lip. 

“ 1 never despise real affection ot any kind,” leplied Annie 
quickly. 

‘‘lam delighted to hear you say so, belle cousine/* replied Lord 
Bellefield, fixing his bold roving eyes on her with an expression in- 
tended to be fascinating, but which was simply disagreeable. 

Annie looked annoyed, and saying she nmst warn Miss Living- 
stone of the intended expedition, rose and quitted the apartment. 

When the brothers were left togetlier Ciiarles, after a minute’s 
pause, began: ” 1 say, Bellefield, 1 wish you’d try and be a little 
more civil to young Arundel: you annoyed him by the way in 
which you offered money for his dog just after he had risked his 
life to save it, and 1 don’t think you mended matters by what you 
added to-day. Recollect he’s a gentleman by birth and has the feel- 
ings of one.” 

‘‘Curse his feelings*” was the unamiable rejoinder; ‘‘he’s a 
proud, insolent young puppy. If he’s a gentleman by birth, he’s a 
beggar by position and requires puHmg down his proper level; 
I’ve no notion of dependents giving themselves such airs, and 1 
shall let him know my opinion some of these days.” 

Charley Leicester regarded his elder brother with a half-sleepy 
look of serio-comic disgust, then slightly shrugging his shoulders, 
he drew on his other glove, placed his hat on his head, arranged his 
curls to his satisfaction at a mirror, and lounged gracefully out of 
the room. 

Scarcely had he done so when the late subject of their conversa- 
tion entered by another door which opened into the conservatory, 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


in 


and p^lanced round llie apartment as in quest of some one; appar- 
eiitJy the object of his search was not to be discerned, for, turning 
to Lord Bellefield, he inquired whether he could direct him where 
to find Miss Grant. 

Tlie person addressed favored him for some seconds with a super- 
cilious stare, ere lie answered, “ And what might you want with 
that young lady, pray?” 

Lewis paused for a moment ere he flared trust himself to reply, ^ 
for the tone in which the question had been asked was most inso- 
lent. At length he said, ” J can have no objection to gratify your 
lordship’s curiosity. The general wished me to inform Aliss Grant 
that he had arranged a skating party on the lake for this afternoon, 
and that carriages would be at the door in ten minutes to transport 
those of the company thither who might prefer driving to walking.” 

” Keally, you must have a wonderful memory, Mr. Arundel; I 
dare swear those were the general’s very words; as, however, i can 
scarcely imagine it consistent with your onerous duties to play the 
part of squire to dames. I’ll save you the trouble for once by deliv- 
ering your message myself.” And with an irritating smile as he 
remarked the anger his words had produced Lord Bellefield turned 
and quitted the apartment. 

Lewis stood for a moment gazing after the retreating figure, his 
nostrils expanded and his chest heaving like some hunted animal; 
then pacing the room (his invariable custom when laboring under 
strong excitement) he gave vent to the following broken sentences; 

” lie meant to insult me— his words, his looks, everything proves it — 
and 1 did not resent it — perhaps he thinks I fear him ; if 1 believed so 
1 ’(1 follow him and before them all fix on him the blow of shame that 
he must avenge or own himsell a coward.” As he spoke he took two 
or three hasty strides toward the door; checking himself, however, as 
his eve accidentally fell upon Walter, who had entered with him, 
and who stood regarding him with looks of stupid amazement, he 
continued: ” But 1 must not think only of myself; the interests of 
others are at stake— that poor boy — Rose— my mother- 1 dare not 
sacrifice them.” He flung himself inti> a chair, and pressing his 
liand against his burning brow, resumed: ‘‘Oh, wiiy am 1 called 
upon to bear this? how have 1 sinned, that this torture should be 
forced upon me?— the coward! he know^s 1 am bound hand and 
fool, or lie dare not thus insult me; it is like striking a fettered 
mat).” He paused, then added, ” Well, a time may come when 1 
may meet him more as an equal; at all events, now it is my duly 
to bear as much as human nature may, and I’ll do it.” He re- 
mained silent for a few’^ minutes, with his hand over his eyes, w’ait- 
ing till the excitement should pass away. From this state he was 
roused by feeling something touch him, and looking up he per- 
ceived the idiot, half kneeling, half silting by his side, gazing up 
into his lace with looKS of wonder and sympathy. This mute evi- 
dence of affection acted as a balm to his w’ounded spirit, and laying 
his hand kindly on the bo5^’s shoulder, he said, ‘‘ Walter, mv^ poor 
fellow, have I .frightened you? .1 was not angry wdth you, you 
know'; come, we will w'alk down to the lake and see the skating. 
What has become of Faust, 1 wonder? We must lake him with iis 
of course.” 


122 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


“ Who was that who went away just now?’’ returned Walter; 
“ he with the hair over his mouth, 1 mean?” 

” That was Lord Bellefield, your friend Mr. Leicester’s brother.” 

” He’s a bad man, isn’t he?” 

Why should you think so, Walter?” 

The boy paused tor a few moments in retlection, then answered, 
” His eyes look wicked, and fricjhtened me; besides, he made you 
au^rry — I hate him.” 

‘‘You should not say that, Walter; you know it is not right to 
hate any one,” returned Lewis, feeling dreadfully hypocritical; then 
linking his arm in that of his pupil, they passed out through the 
conservatory. 

As the sound of their retreating footsteps died away a figure 
peeped timidly into the apartment, and seeing it was uulenanted, 
entered, and gazed after them long and fixedly. It was Annie 
Grant, wdio, returning to learn the result of Lewis’s embassy to her 
father, had involuntaiil}' overheard both the insult and the burst of 
wounded feeling which it had called forth. 

In that short five minutes were sowm seeds that, as they grew to 
maturity, bore sleepless nights and weary days and the tearless 
sorrow of a breaking heart as a portion of their bitter fiuit. 

The lake in Broadhurst Park presented a gay scene on the after- 
noon in question. Anxious to propitiate the good-will of the voters, 
by the general’s order the Park w^as thrown open to all who might 
ciioose to witness or join in the amusement of skating. A sharp 
frost, which had continued without intermission for several days, had 
covered the water with a firm coaling of ice, which afforded a sur- 
face as smooth as glass for the operations of the suaters. The sun 
was shining brightly, bringing out beautiful effects of light and 
shade on the steep rugged banks, and causing the hoar-frost on the 
feathery branches of a young birch plantation to glitter like sprays 
of diamonds. On tlie side approached by the drive from the bouse 
a tout liad been pitched in such a directicn that any of the party 
wiio fear( d to expose themselves to the cold might witness the evo- 
lutions of the skaters, and yet be sheltered from the troublesome in- 
trusion of the north wind. 

As Lewis and Walter came in sight of the spot (on which several 
groups of well-dressed people, together with a considerable number 
of a lower class, were already assembled) the latter uttered an ex- 
clamation of delight, and roused out of his usual state of apath}’- by 
the novel excitement, bounded gayly forward till he had reached 
the side of Chares Leicester, to whom he Imd taken an extreme 
fancy. 

‘‘ Mr. Arundel is going to teach me how to skate, Mr. Leicester, 
and you are to help,” he exclaimed as soon as he had recovered 
breath after his run. 

” Am 1?” returned Leicester, with a good-natured smile; ” how 
do 5^011 know that 1 will help you?” 

‘‘Because Mr. Arundel said so; and everybody minds him — 
Faust and all.” 

‘‘Is that true, Arundel? Am 1 to do just as you tell me?” in- 
quired Leicester, as the individual alluded to joined them. 

” It is quite right that Walter should ttiink so, at all events,” re 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


123 


tuinecl Lewis; “ but I told him to ask you as a favor whether you 
would lend us your assistarce. Waller is anxious to learu to skate, 
and to save his cranium from gettiiur a few ariificial bumps sud- 
denly developed upou it, 1 proposed that you and 1 should each 
lake one of Ills arms and keep him from falling, till he learns to 
Stan I safely upon his skates without assistance,” 

Leicester gave vent to a deep sigh of resignation, then muttered, 
” Well, 1 should certainly never have dreamed of undergoing such 
an amount of exertion on my own account; but 1 suppose Waller 
fancies it will be very charming; and he has not a great many pleas- 
ures. poor fellotvl” he continued aside; and so, like a good-natured, 
kind-hearted fellow, as, despite his affectation, he really was, he 
perlormt (1 the service required of him, and actually exerted him- 
self till his complexion became, as he expressed it, ” redder than 
tliat of some awful ])h)wboy.” After a time Waller grew tiled 
with the unaccustomed exercise, and, taking oft his skates, the trio 
proceeded to join the party at the tent. As they approached Annie 
tripped up to Leicester and, seizing his arm, sard, ” Where have 
you been all this lime? 1 wanted you particularly I” She then 
added something in a low voice, which had the effect of heighten- 
ing tier cousin’s unromautic complexion to a still greater degree, 
and elicited from him the incredulous ejaculation, “ Nonsense!” 

” 1 knew you’d be surprised,” returned Annie, laughing. “ She 
is going to remain here till the party breaks up, so you’ll have 
plenty of time to make yourself agreeable, it it’s not ‘ too much 
trouble,’ or ‘ such a bore,’ ” she continued, mimicking Charles’s 
languid drawl. 

“How was this matter brought about, pray?” inquired her 
cousin; “and why on earth do you fancy it concerns me in any 
way?” ■ 

” It was all my doing,’ returned Annie. ” 1 was not blind when 
we were in Scotland; and after you left us 1 made a point of culti- 
vating the young lady; and — fortimatelv for you -*approving of 
her, 1 asked papa to let me invite her to Broadhurst.” 

(3f course, with that riiscretion which is such a strikiug charac- 
teiislic of your amiable sex, imparting to him all your views in do- 
ing so.” 

“ Now, Charley, you are very cross and unkind and disagreeable. 

1 asked her merely because 1 thought it would give you pleasure; 
and though 1 like sometimes to tease you a little myself, of course 
1 never dreamed of saying anything to my father which could au- 
noy you.” 

Well, you are a dear, good little cousin, 1 knov/, so 1 won’t 
scold you,” was the reply; and they entered the tent together. 

A few miputes afterward Lewis was engaged in pointing out to 
Walter one of the skaters who was performing some very infricate 
figure with great success, when he heard a female voice exclaim, 

” Surely 1 am not mistaken — that is Mr. Arundel!” and, turning at 
the sound, beheld, leaning on the arm of Charles Leicester, Miss 
Laura Peyton, the young lady who had penetrated his disguise at 
Lady Lombard’s parly. Not to return her bow was impossible, but 
at the recollection ot all that had passed on that evening his cheek 
flushed and his face assumed a cold, dislant expression, the result 


124 . 


LEWIS AUU.NDEL. 


of miuglecl pride and vexation, under which he strove to conceal 
his annoyance. Annie, who was not. aware that Lewis and her 
friend had ever met before, glanced from one to the other with 
lof>ks of the greatest astonishment, which were by no means dimin 
ishcd when Miss Peyton continued, “ Kow let me inquire after the 
Prince of Persia. 1 hope you lefc his highness in the enjoyment of 
good nealth.’' 

While Lewis was striving to frame a suitable reply, Annie, who 
could restrain herself no longer, exclaimed in a tone of the utmost 
bewilderment, “ The Prince of Persia! My dear Laura, are you 
out of your senses ?’" 

The only reply her friend was able for some minutes to return 
was rendered inaudible by a fit of laughing, in which Leicester, 
and at last even Lewis himself, could not resist joining. 

“ Now 1 call that abominable,” continued Annie; “you are all 
enjoying some excellent joke, and i am left to pine in ignorance. 
Laura, what ai^e you laughing at?” 

“Ask Mr. Leicester,” returned Miss Peyton, breathless with 
laughier. 

” Charles, what is it all about?” 

” Ask Arundel,” was the reply; “he is the proper person to ex- 
plain ” 

“ Mr. Arundel, you must tell me!” 

‘‘ Roally, 1 must beg 3 ’ou to excuse me,” began Lewis; “Miss 
Peyton— tJiat is -jVli. Jjeicester — in tact, it is impossible for me to 
tell you. Come, Waller, you’ve rested quite long enough, you’ll 
catch cold sitting still after making yourself so hot;” and, as he 
spoke, he took his pupil’s arm and hastily quitted the tent. 

Of course us soon as he wjis out of earshot, Annie reiterated her 
demand that the mystery should be explained, and of course Laura 
begged Charles to relate the affair, and then, woman-like, inter- 
rujpled him before he had uttered half a dozen words, and being 
once fairly off, did not stop till she had told the whole history from 
beginning to end, which she did with much spirit and drollery; 
then, in lie'* turn, she had to be informed of tlie position Lewis held 
iif the general’s family; how wonderfull}^ Walter hail improved 
under his care, and how much everybody liked him. When they 
had fully discussed these matters, they were joined by Lord Belle- 
field, who escorted them across the ice to witness more closely the 
proceedings of the skaters. 

Later in the afternoon a party of young men had undertaken to 
skate a quadrille; this being something new, people hurried from 
all sides lo view it, and a crowd speedily coilecied. Walter had ex- 
pressed a wish to see it, and Lewis, delighted at the unusual interest 
he took in all that was going forward, which he rightly regarc'ed as 
a proof of the decided progress his intellect was making, cheerfully 
complied. 

The crowd still continued to thicken as the quadrille proceeded, 
and it had just occurred to Lewis that the weight of so many peo- 
ple oolleclfici in one spot wovild try the strength of the ice pretty 
seveiely, when a slight cracking sound confirmed his suspicions, 
and induced him to withdraw Walter from the group. It was 
fortunate that he did so, for scarcely were they clear of the crowd 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


125 


wheo a sharp crack, like the report of a ])istol, rang in his ears, 
followed by (<ne or two others in rapid succession. There was a 
rush of many feet, accompanied by the shrill screaming of women, 
and on looking round, Lewis pei*ceived that a portion of the ice had 
given way and that several persons were struggling in the water. 


CHAPTER XX. 

FAUST GETS ON SWIMMINGLY, AND THE READER IS INTRODUCED 
TO A DIVING BELL, WRINGING WET. 

The shrieks alluded to in the last chapter still continued, and 
Lewis, consigning Walter to the care of a servant, hastened to the 
spot to render any assistance whic'i it might be in his power to 
afford. As he reached the scene of action the panic and confusion 
were so great that it was no easy matter to ascertain the extent of 
the mischief or to know how to set about remedying it Lord Belle 
field, who seemed the only person at all collected, was issuing direc- 
tions in a loud authoritative voice, to which the majority of the 
by-slanders appear ed too much alarmed and excited to pay much at- 
tention. The number of persons who were actually immersed had 
been increased by the injudicious attempts of those who had first 
endeavored to assist them, by rushing to the edge of the broken ice, 
which, giving way under their weight, had plunged them also into 
the water. As Lewis came up a rope was flung across the opening, 
and held tightly b}^ men on either side; grasping this firmly witli one 
hand, Lewis assisted to extricate several persons who were clinging 
to the edges of the ice. He was just springing back as the ice on 
which he was standing broke away henealh his feet, when a cry 
was raised, “ There’s a lady in the water!” and immediately some 
one added, “ It’s the general’s daughter— -it’s Miss Grant.” Before 
the words were well-spoken Lewis had flung off his great coat and 
was about to plunge into the water, when his eye suddenly caught 
that of Lord Belleficld, who, having in the confusion accidentally 
stationed himself by his side, was pointing with veliement gestiues 
to the spot where, partly sustained by her floating dress, partly sup- 
ported by a mass of floating ice, the form of xAunie Grant was to be 
discerned. At the sight of the eager f^ce of the man vvho had in- 
sulted him, some evil spirit seemed to take possession of Lewis's 
breast; ciiecking himself suddenly, he stepped back a pace and fix 
ing his e 3 ^es with a piercing glance on Lord Bellefield't features, 
said coldly, ‘‘ 1 beg pardon; your lordship will, of course, rescue 
Miss Grant.” For a moment anger and surprise deprived Lord 
iiellefield of the power of speaking, but as soon as he could find 
words, he replied, Go on, sir; as you could risk your life for a 
dog, you will surely take a cald bath to save 3 "our master’s 
daughter.” 

The speech was an ill-chosen one, tor it excited a degree or irrita- 
tion which outweighed all other considerations, and%tolding his 
arms across his chest, Lewis replied in a tone of the bitterest irony, 

” Your lordship must excuse me. 1 am no squire of dames.'*' 

Lord Belletield’s only rejoinder was an oath, and, flinging off his 


!26 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


wrapper, he appeared about to spring into the water. Suddenly 
ohangii'.g Ids iutenlioiL he turned to Lewis, and exclaimed, his face 
livid with rage and vexation, “ Ten thousand curses on you! you 
Know 1 can not swim ” 

It is at such moments as these when, by our own willful act. we 
have laid ourselves open to Ids attacks, that the tempter urges us on 
to crimes which in our calmer moments we shudder to contemplate. 
A glance of triumph shot Eiom Lewis’s daik eyes, and the tearful 
thought flashed across him — ‘‘ She is to be his bride — her fortune is 
to repair his extravagance—perhaps he loves her;” and the fiend 
prompted the idea, woriliy of its originator, that he might revenge 
himself on Lord Bellefield by leaving Annie to perish. But, like 
many other clever people, for once the demon outwitted himself; 
the very magnitude of the ciime served to awaken Lewis to the sin- 
fulness of the line of conduct he had meditated. In an instant a 
mist seemed to clear itself away from his menial vision, and he per- 
ceived the abyss of guilt on the brink of which h • was standing. 
And now the agonizing doubt suggested itself to him whether his 
repentance might not have come t(>o late— that Annie might sink be- 
fore he could leach her; and, as Lord Beliefield ran off. impetuous- 
ly to hasten the movements of a parly who were bringing a small 
flat-bottomed boat toward the spot, Lewis sprung into the water, 
clearing a quarter of the distance in his leap, and swam with vigor- 
ous strokes in the direction of the stfil flouting figure. 

His fears were not unfounded. Annie’s dress, which had hither- 
to served in a great measure to sustain her, was rapidly becoming 
saturated with water; every instant she sunk lower, and while he 
was still some yards from the spot, to his horror he perceived the 
fragment of ice on which she resled roll round ami slip from her 
grasp. Ihe effect was instantaneous. Uttering a piercing shriek, 
which rang through his ears like a death-knell, she threw out her 
arms in a vain attempt to save herself, and disappeared beneath the 
water. At the same moment there was a rush, a bound, a plunge — 
some large animal dashed past Lewis, and ere the last fragment of 
i\nnie’s dress disappeaied Faust had seized it in his mouth, and 
prevented its wearer from sinking. The by-standers now drew the 
rope which had been flung across the opening in the ice in such a 
direction that Lewis could grasp it, and, thus siipportefi, he con- 
trived to raise Annie’s head above the water, and, with same assist- 
ance trom Faust, to keep both her and himself afloat till such time 
as the punt should arrive. This, fortunately, was not long. The 
instant it was launched. Lord Beliefield and one or two others 
jumped into it, and in anotlier moment Ai^iie Grant was rescued 
from her perilous situation, to the horrors of which she was, how- 
ever, by this time happily insensible. As they were lifiing her into 
the bout, poor Faust, who probably did not understand that his 
services w^ere no longer needed, still retained his hold on her dress, 
4md Lord Beliefield struck him so fiercely with the handle of a boat- 
hook that he fell back stunned, and would have sunk had not 
Lewis, w^hp was still in the water, thrown his aim round him and 
prevented him. 

“ The punt can hold no more,” exclaimed Lord Beliefield: Miss 
Grant’s safety must not be endangered for any consideration;” and 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


12 ? 


as lie spoke he pushed the boat from the spot, leaving Lewis still: 
clingin^>: to the rope and supporting tiie weight of the dog, which 
did not as yet begin to show an\’’ signs of life. 

‘‘ We will bring the boat back for you, sir, directly,’' cried one 
of the men who were assisting Lord Bellefield in punting. 

You must be quick about it it you care to be of any use,” re- 
turned Lewis in a faint voice, ” for 1 can’t hold on much longer: 
my limbs are becoming numbed with the cold.” 

” Better let go the dog if you're in any difficulty,” suggesterf 
Lord Bellefield, with a malicious laugh, as the boat moved rapidly 
away. 

” That is the way they would repay 5'Our faithful service, eh! my 
poor f aust,” murmured Lewis; ‘‘ never fear, we’ll sink or swim 
together, my dog. If anyone deserves to drown for this day’s 
work, ’tis I, not you,” At the sound of his master’s voice the poor 
animal opened his eyes, and began to show signs of returning ani- 
mation. Fortunate was it for them both that Lewis had contrived 
to place the rope under his arms, in such a position as almost entire- 
ly 10 support not only his own weight, hut that of the dog also; for 
long before the boat returned his streugih was entirely exliausted— 
and his limbs, from the length of time he bad been immersed in the 
icy water, had completely lost all sensation and v/ere powerless as 
those of a child. 

Lord Bellefield contrived to detain the boat on various pretexts, 
till at last tlie man who had promised to return lost all patience and 
pushed off without w^aiting tor permission; in another moment they 
were by Lewis’s side. 

” 'I’ake the dog first,” exclaimed Lewis in a voice scarcely audible 
from exhaustion. ” Now you must lift me in for I can’t help my- 
self.” 

With some difficulty (tor even with the assistance of the rope 
licwis had been barely able to keep ids own head and that of t’anst 
above w’ater) the men in the boat complied with his directions; the 
dog had, by this lime, nearly recovered from the effects of the blow" 
and was able to stand up and lick his master’s face and hands, as 
lie lay al the bottom of the punt. Lewis, however, by no means 
appeared in such good case — iiis cheeks, and even bis lips, w^ere 
deadly pale, bis breathing was bard and laborious, and be lay with 
liis eyes closed and his limbs stretched out with unnatural stiffness 
an^ rigidity. As the boat approached the spot where a landing was 
piacticable, Charles Leicester, wdio had assisted his brother in con- 
ve3nng Annie to the carriage, whicli was fortunately in waiting, 
came running back, and as his eye fell upon the prostrate form of 
Lewis, he exclaimed: 

” Why, Arundel! good heavens. 1 believe he’s insensible.” 

Nor was he wrong. The instant the necessiry for exertion was 
over, the reaction had been loo much for Lewis, and he had fainted. 
He was instantly fitted from the boat and carried to the tent, 
where such restoratives as could be at the moment procured were 
applied, at first without success, but after a short time the color 
began to return to his lips, and in a few minutes more he was re- 
stored to consciousness 

‘‘ Bravo, that’s all right,” began Charley Leicester as Lewis, with 


128 


LEWIS AliUN^DEL. 


A faint smile, sat upright and returned his hearty shake of tlie hand 
witli a teeble pressure; “ you begin to look a little less like a candi- 
date for a coffin than you did five minutes ago 1 declare, when 1 
saw you in the boat, i thouglt it was a case of ‘ found drowned.’ 
Faust! good dog; wbata bump he’s got on the top of his head, just 
where the organ of combativenrss — no, veneration, isn t it? — ought 
to be. How did that happen? In fact, I’m quite in the dark as to 
the whole affair, tor 1 had gone to fetch shawds for some of the 
ladies, and when 1 reacheil the scene of action Bcllelield was fishing 
his intended, half-drowned, out of a moist punt, and enlisted mo to 
assist in conveying the dripping damsel to the cairiage. Did you 
fall in together?” 

‘‘\ou wiil hear enough about it soon, 1 dare say,” returned 
Lewis, speaking feebly an 1 with apparent difficulty; ” 1 am afraid 
1 have scarcely sufficient lileleft in me just now to tell you.” 

” Don’t attempt it.” returned Leicester good-naturedly. ” And 
the sooner you gel those soaked clothes off the better. Of course 
they will send back the trap for you.” 

” My carriage is bn the spot,” interrupted a tall, aristocratic-look- 
ing man, who bad assisted in conveying Lewis ti) the tent. ” My 
carriage is on the spot, and is very much at this gentleman’s service. 
We must all feel anxious to prevent his suffering from the effects 
of his gallant conduct. The preserver of Miss Grant’s life must be 
considered as a public benetaclor. ” 

At this praise a slight color rose to Lewis’s pale cheeks, and a 
look of pain ])assed across his features. He to be styled Annie’s 
preserver ! — he who had all but sacrificed her life to his feelings of 
revenge!- -and as the recollection occurred to him, a slight shudder 
ran through liis frame. 

” There, you are actually shivering,” exclaimed Leicester. ” 1 
shall not let you stay here any longer. Since Sir Ralph Strickland 
is so kind as to offer his carriage, there is nothing to delay us. Can 
you walk? Take my arm.” 

Lewis, with an inclination of the head to Sir Ralph, look Lei- 
cester’s proffered arm, and having with difficulty risen from his seat, 
attempted to walk, but at the first step he stumbled, and would have 
fallen bad not bis friend supported him. 

” Steady there.’’ continued Le cester; ‘‘you’re hardly in march- 
ing order yet. Would yon like to wait another minute or tw'o?” 

” 1 think 1 had better try to proceed,” replied Lewis; ” exercise 
may servo to restore the circulation.” 

” Allow me to take your other arm,” said Sir Ralph Strickland 
kindly; ” then I think you will be able to reach the carriage— it is 
close at hand. The length of time you were in the water has 
cramped your limbs. 1 saw the whole affair, and never witnessed 
anything more interesting than the conduct of your noble dog.” 

And as he spoke he stooped and palled Faust, then forcing Lewis 
to accept his offer of assistance, they left the tent together. As his 
blood began once more to circulate, the cramp and stiffness gradu 
all}’^ disappeared, and ere the trio reached the carriage, Lewis scarce 
ly required assistance. On leacbing Broailhurst he found the gen- 
eral wailing to receive him, and the instant he alighted he had to 
undergo a long, prosy, and pompous harangue, embodying that 


LEWIS ARUi^DEL. 


120 


noble commander’s gratitude, during the delivery of Which oration 
the subject of it was kept standing" in his wet clothes-— a compulsory 
act ot Homage to the cold water system by no means congenial to 
his feelings, mental or bodily. However, it came to an end at last, 
and Lewis was permitted to retire to his own room. .Moreover, 
Charles Leicester (instigated thereunto by a hint from Miss Peyton) 
waylaid the apothecary, who had been summoned on Annie’s ac- 
count, and caused him to inspect Lewis’s condition, which measure 
resulted in a command to have his bed warmed and instantly deposit 
himself therein; with which medical ordinance Lewis was tain to 
comply. 

Tliere he lay until, from being much too cold he became a arrcat 
deal too hot, for before night he was in a high state ot feverish ex- 
citement, accompanied by" violent pains in the head and limbs, llis 
medical adviser was, however, fortunately really skinful, and by 
vigorous and timely measures lie contrived to avert the rheumatic 
fever with which Ids patient was threatened; and after spending 
three days in bed, Lewis arose, feeling indeed singulaily w’eak, but 
otherwise little the worse in body for his aquatic exploit. We say 
in body, tor mentally be bad suffered bitterly. As lie lay on the 
couch of sickness, in the silent hours of the night, face to face wuli 
conscience, the recollection ot the sin he had committed (for a sin it 
was, and he was too honest-hearted in his self-scrulinv not to rec- 
ognize it as such) haunted him. • I'lie tact that he bad been unable, 
by bis own act, to repair the consequences of the evil he li|id medi- 
tated impressed him deeply. But for Faust, Anuie would have sunk 
ere lie could have reached the spot, probably to rise no more. It 
appeared a special interference nf Providence to convince him of the 
tolly of self-reliance, and to impress upon his mind a sense of the 
mercy ot God, in saving him from the consequences of bis revenge- 
tul feelings. True, he had repented of hi3 fault, almost in the mo- 
ment ot committal; true, he had risked his life in proof of the sin- 
cerity of llis repentance; true, the provocation he had received 
might, in the eyes ot men, serve in a great measure to justify him; 
stiil the knowledge that bat for the interposition of Providence be 
might now have felt himself a murderer filled him vvitli emotions ot 
the deepest penitence and, at the same time, ot the liveliest grati- 
tude. 

In this frame of mind the encomiums passed upon his gallant 
conduct were most distressing to him, and a short note from Annie, 
thanking liim in a few simple words for having saved her life, 
added fuel to the tire of bis self-condemnation. Among oilier 
good resolutions for the future he determined to be.ir any insults 
Lord Bellefield might offer with as much pati^t endurance as 
could by any possibility be deemed consistent with self-respect in 
one in his dependent situation; and the reader may judge of the 
sincerity of his repentance if he reflecis wbat such a resolution must 
have cost his haughty nature. He also determined to seek an op- 
portunity of confessing to Annie how little he deserved her grati- 
tude, and to implore her forgiveness of the wrong he had intended 
her. The clipping that young iaay had undergone did not appear 
to have affected either her health or her spirits. By tlie doctor's 
orders she had also been sent to bed immediately on her return home, 
5 


130 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


ivhere, falling osleep, she escaped a lecture from Minerva and all 
other evil consequences of her immersion, and woke the next morn- 
ing none the worse for the accident. 

il was about a iveek after the on which these events had taken 
place when, the afternoon being fine, Lewis and Walter proposed 
to take a ride together. Walter had mounted his pony, aiul Lewis 
was strapping a great coat in front of his horse’s saddle, w hen Rich- 
ards, the groom, who had been elevated to the rank of second coach- 
man (as the illness of the head coachman had rendered his lesigna- 
tion an act o'f necessity, and the next in command had succeeded 
to his vacant box), came forward and, touching his hat, asked if he 
could speak to Lewis a minute. 

“ Certainly; what is it?” returned Lewis, stepping aside a few 
paces. 

” Why, sir, p’raps j'ou know as the general’s gone out a-driving?” 

‘‘ I was not aware of liie fact,” returned Lewis; ” but wliat 
then?” 

‘‘ He’s a-driving of hisself, sir, onr iron grays, Mr. Arundel. Mas- 
ter ain't so young as he used to was, and it’s my belief if any think 
startles ’em, Le w^on’t be able to hold ’em— they go sweetly now, 
but they do pull most amazing. 1 drove ’em yesterday, and afore 
1 got home my arms ached proper^.v.” 

” Did you mention this to General Grant?” inquired Lewis. 

“ Well, i told him 1 w^as afeard he’d find ’em pull rather stifl; 
but he only give me one of his black looks, as much as to say, 
‘ Keep your advice to yourself, and mind your o^vii business.’ 
Master’s rather a hard gentleman to talk to, you see; he’s alvvn3"S 
been used to shooting and flogging men out in the lugies, till it’s 
kind a-bccome natural to him; and as he can’t act the same here, 
wdiy it puts him out like.” 

” 1 do not see that anything -can be done now,” observed Lewis, 
after a moment’s reflection; “ if 1 had been here when the general 
started, 1 would have told him the nick the iron-grays played us, 
and advised him not to ( rive them just yet; but 1 dare say it wmuUl 
have done no good; for, as you say, your master is not overfond of 
advice gratis. 1 suppose he has one of the grooms with him?” 

” Only a mere boy, sir, and Miss Annie,” w'as the reply. 

“ Wiiat!” exedaimed Lewis, in a quick, excited tone of voice, 
“ is Miss Gr ant with him? Why did you not say so before*? VVhicli 
road h:»ve they taken? How long liave they been gone?’' 

“ About twenty minutes, or p’ra])s not so loiiii,” returned Rich- 
ards. ‘‘I think they are gone to Carnlield— leastways, L heard 
master tell Miss Annie to bring her card-case, ’cos he was going to 
call on Colonel l^forton.” 

” That must he eight miles by the road, but not much above five 
across the fields bj^ Chur ton Wood,” rejoined Lewis. 

” That is right, Mr. Arundel,” vvas the reply; ” and the gates js 
unlocked, for 1 rode that w’ay with a note for Colonel JSortou the 
day afore yesterday.” 

Ere Ricliards had finished speaking, Lewis was on horseback; 
and as soon as they reached the park, lie turned to his pupil, say- 
ing, ” Now, Walter, sit firmly, guide the pony on to the turf, lighten 
your reins, and then for a good canter— touch him wdth the whip — 


lp:vvis arundej.. 


131 


not too hard— that’s it.’' Paltius: his own horse in fnotion at the 
same time, (hey rode forward at a brisk canter, which, as the horses 
grew excited by tlie rapid motion, became almost a gallop. Crossing 
the park at this pace, they turned down a l)ridle path which led 
through a wood, and across several grass fields, beyond the last of 
w'hich lay a wdde common. As they appioached this, Lewis took 
out his watch. “ Above four miles in twenty minutes— 1 call that 
good woric for a pony. You lode very well, Walter— you've a cap- 
ital seat on horseback now.” 

”1 can leap too,” rejoined Walter, ‘‘Richards taught me, the 
days when you were ill in bed.” 

” I'm glad to hear it,” returned Lewis, who, while his pupil was 
speaking, had been endeavoring, iinBuccessfully, to open a gate— 

” for they have fastened this gate with a padlock, and we must 
find our way over the hedge.” 

‘‘ Oh! but 1 can’t,” began Walter. 

‘‘ Yes, you can,” interposed Lewis, “when 1 have cleared the 
road for you. and shown you how to do it. !Sit still, and w^atch 
me.” So saying, he selected a place w’here the hedge was thin, and 
the ditch and bank practicable, and, putting his horse into an easy 
canter, rode at it. Being particularly anxious that nothing should 
go wrong, and that Waller shoulTl be convinced of the feasibility of 
the attempt, Lewis was not best pleased when his horse, instead of 
rising to the leap, refused it, and replied to a tolerably sharp appli- 
cation of the spur by plunging violently, and turning short round. 
His rider, however, sat as firmly as if he were part of the animal, and 
can.ering rounil two sides of the field, he got him well in hand, and 
again rode him at the hedge, w( rkiug his mouth with the bit, and 
giving him the spur. This discipline produced the desired effect, 
foi, instead of refusing the leap th's time, the liorse sprung forward 
wu'tli a hound wdiich would have cleai'ed an obstacle of twice the 
size, and alighted on the other side several feet be3ond the ditch. 
Lewis rode on a few yards, and then turning, leaped back into the 
field, and rejoined his pupil. 

‘‘ Now, Walter, you must do as 1 have done;— canter up to that 
gap, give the pony bis head, touch him on the flank as be approaches 
tiie hedge, sit firmly, and press in your knees, and you’ll go over as 
nicely as possible.” 

But poor Walter’s courage failed him ; the conflict between Lewis • 
and his horse liad destroyed his confidence, and he was afraid to 
make the attempt ; his tutor read it in his blanched cheek and quail- 
ing glance, and being as kind and judicious as he was firm, forbore 
to press the point, and dismounting, led the pon}^ through the gap, 
and assisted Walter to scramble over on loot; then remounting his 
steed, he tested his obedience by once more leaping him over; and 
having thus achieved the adventure of the locked gale, tutor and 
pupil cantered off across tlip common. But this little episode had 
•caused some loss of time, and when Lewis reached the lane leading 
to the village, near wdiich Colonel Norton’s house was situated, he 
learned from a man who w’as mending the road that a phaeton 
answering the description of General Grant's equipage had passed a 
few minutes before. 

” i\Iy friend Richards’s fears were needlessly excited then, it 


132 


LEWIS AllUKDEL. 


seems, find llie old gentleman is a belter whip than he gave him 
credit for being, ihoiighi Lewis; “it would not do tor )din to 
break his daughter’s neck before she lias forgiven me for resalving 
to allow her to be drowned. Poor girl, she has always shown me so 
much kindness and consideration; — and 1 to determine to visit the 
insolence of her future husband on her devoted head. It 1 had 
heard of any one else proposing such a thing 1 should nave set him 
down as a monster of iniquity. Oh! it 1 could but learn to contiol 
my wretched temper! Come, Walter,” he added aloud, “ we will 
go back by tlie road. Don’t trot just yet; the hvuses are waim; 
we must let them get a little cool.” 

After proceeding about halt a mile along the lane, which was only 
just wide, enough to allow' vehicles to pass each other, they oveitook 
an elderly woman in a red cloak most picturesquely perched be- 
1 ween two panniers on a donkey’s back. Such an airaugement being 
a novelty to Walter, he was proceeding to inquire ot wdiat use the 
panniers w'ere, wdien Lew is’s quick sense ot hearing caught a sound 
which caused him to rein in his hoise, and enjoining silence, pause 
to listen. His ears had not deceived him. Owing to the Irosty 
weather the road w'as particularly hard; the ruts also had been late- 
ly mended with coarse gravel, and as he stood still the sound ot 
horses’ feet galloping and the rattle* of a carriage proceeding at un 
usual speed, became distinctly audible in tlie lane behind them. 
The vehicle was evidently rapidly approaching, riie Line being in 
this part extremely narrow, Lewis's first thought was for Waller's 
safet}’, and seizing the pony’s rein, he set spurs to his horse, and 
they cantered on a short distance till they reached a galew'ay leail- 
ing into a field. The gate was tortuuately ^pen, and desiring 
'Valter to ride into the field, and wait till he joic^ed him, he turned 
his horse’s head and began to retrace Ids steps. As soon as he had 
passed an old oak tree which stood at a corner ofllhe road and pre- 
vented any one from seeing beyond it, he perceived the cause of 
the sounds which had reached him, and wdiich he had already but 
loo correctly divined. 

At about a hundred yards from the spot w'here he was stationed 
appeared a phaeton drawn by a pair of magnificent iron-grays, wdiich 
Lewis had no ditticulty in recognizing; and, from the furious pace 
at which they w'ere advancing, it was evident that their driver had 
lost all control over them; while about half way betw'een Lewis and 
the equipage in question w'ere the donkey and panniers, with the 
old woman in the red cloak before alluded to. The gentleman driv- 
ing the phaeton shouted to her to gel out of the w'ay, and Lewis 
made signs lo her as to which side of the road she had better take; 
but she appeared either paralyzed with fear or unable to guide her 
donke}^; and ere she could comply with or probably comprehend 
these directions, the infuriated horses had oveitaken her, and dash- 
ing against her, flung her, donkey, panniers, and all, lo the ground^ 
with a shock like that of a hatleiing ram. At the same instant 
Lewis, availing himselt of the tempoiaiy check, rode foi w’ard, and, 
springing from his saddle, seized the heads of the. phaeton horses, 
and with much ilifficulty, and no inconsiderable personal risk, suc- 
ceeded in stopping them. 


LEWIS ARUIS^pEL. 


133 


CHAPTER XXI. 


THE TRAIN ARRIVES AT AN IMPORTANT STATION. 

The catastrophe related at the eud of the last chapter attracted 
the attentioa of a couple of laboreis, who had been engaged in mend- 
ing the road, and they immediately hastened to the spot, to render 
any assistance which might be required. By theii aid, I be poor 
woman was extricated from her perilous situation, but, untorlunate- 
ly, not in time to prevent lier from being considerabl}^ injured; her 
right arm hung powerless by her side, in a manner that proved that 
the bone must be bioken, and she complained of severe pain in one 
side, where the horses’ hoofs had struck her. Committing the 
phaeton and horses to the care of one of the workin<rmen, ]^ewis and 
the other laborer carried the poor woman to a cottage by the road- 
side, and deposited her on a bed, till such time as the surgeon (tor 
whom General Grant had, by his daughter’s suggestion, dispatched 
the groom on the horse which Lewis had ridden) should arrive. 
Luckily, they had not long to wait, as the boy met the i)erson he 
was in search of returning from his round of professional visits. 
The arm was soon set, the pain in the side pronouncd to be the con- 
sequence of a broken rib, which was also bandaged up. and the 
sight of Annie’s well-filled purse rendered easy an arrangement 
with the tenants of the cottage to allow the invalid to continue their 
inmate till she could be removed without detriment. 


In the meantime ihe general had drawn Lewis on one side, and 
w’as (xpatialing to him upon the cause of the accident. “You 
perceive, Mr. Arundel, that my wuist is slightly swollen. VVell, 
sir, that is from an old strain received in the little affair at Pokcuin- 
behint; I was only a captain then. The company to wTiich 1 be- 
longed got separated from the regiment in crossing a jungle, and 
a party of the Rajah’s irregular horse tried to cut us off; they w'ere 
upon us so suddenly, we hadn’t tipie to form a hollow square, and 
tor a minute our fate seemed sealed; — they rode the men dowui like 
sheep;— in the melee a gigantic tiooper cut down the color-sergeant, 
and was about to possess himself of the Hag wTien 1 seized the staff 
with my left hand and struck' at him with my sword, but, unfortu- 
natel3\ it broke on his cuirass*— his sword had also snapped with 
the blow which had caused the. poor sergeant’s death, and a strug- 
gle ensued between us tor the possession of the colors. His strengih 
w’as in proportion to his height, but, although i telt as it every 
muscle in m}^ arms was about to snap, I held on, till one of my 
men shot him through the head. At the same moment a troop ot 
the llth Lancers rode up, and rescued us. But my wrists have 
never recovered that strain. However, 1 found little difficult}^ in 
holding in these horses, till just now', when w'e had turned to come 
Home, some boys overthrew a barrowtul of stones by the road-side, 
which startled the animals ;Mhfcy broke into a gallop, and, despite 
all my efforts to prevent it, the accident to whicli you were wit- 
ness occurred. “ 


134 


LEWIS AKUKDEL. 


“ Had i knoA^n of your iuteutiou, sir, 1 should have cautioned 
you not to trust them too implicitly,” replied Lewis. ‘‘ Before 
your return— by Miss Livingstone’s wish — 1 went over the stables 
to ascertain whether there were any carriage horses she could use. 
•1 drove these grays the second or third time they had ever been in 
harness, and they ran away with me in Broadhurst Park; but 1 
have taken them out several times since, when AV alter wished for 
an airing, and 1 believed they had become quiet.” 

“Indeed,” returned the general, more graciously than was his 
wont, “ 1 was not aware you were so good a whip; that relieves 
me from a great difficulty; you will be so obliging as to drive the 
phaeton home, and 1 can ride your horse. With my wrists in their 
present condition, it would be a great risk tor me to attempt to hold 
in those animals, and the groom is a mere boy. Annie, my dear,” 
he continued, as his daughter appioached them trom the cottage, 
“ our difficulties are at an end. Mr, Arundel, it appears, has been 
in the habit ot driving these horses lately, and will be so good as to 
take my place, and see you safely home.” 

“ But, papa — ” began Annie, in a tone ot remonstrance, while a 
slight accession ot color replaced the roses which tear had banisiied 
Irom her cheeks. 

“ My dear, the arrangement is the only one that appears feasible 
under present circumstances. 1 shall ride Mr. Arundel s horse, and 
•will keep near, so you need he under no alarm,” returned her 
father, majestically. 

Annie by no means approved the plan. In the first place, she 
W’as a good deal atraid of the horses, and, having no experience of 
Lewis’s skill as a driver was uaturall}’' alarmed at trusting herself 
agtdn behind them. In the second place, she had a vague idea that 
it was scarcely etiquette to take a tHe-d Uie drive with the handsome 
young tutor. " But she saw that her father was quite determined, 
so, like a stnsible giil, she retrained from offering opposition which 
she foresaw w^ould be useless. 

Lewis, however, reading in that “ book of beauty,” her expressive 
face, the secret of her fears, took an opportunity, while the general 
was shortening the stirrups to suit himself, to reassure her, by sa3''- 
Ing, “ You need not be in the lea^ afraid, Miss Grant; believe me, 
1 would not undertake so gieat a trust as that ot your safely did 1 
not feel perfectly sure that 1 could drive ymi home without the 
slightest danger.” 

As Lewis' spoke Annie raised her eyes, and glanced at him for a 
moment. It has been already remarked, in the course of this vera- 
cious history, that when Lewis smiled, the nameless charm which 
in Bose Arundel’s face won the love of all who Knew' her shed its 
luster over his handsome features. To anal^^ze such an expression 
of countenance is scarcely^ possible, but perhaps the nearest approach 
to a correct description of it will be to say that it w'as a bright sun- 
shiny look, which inspired others with a conviction of its wearer’s 
kindness of heart and honest truthfulness ot purpose. Such was its 
effect in the present instance, and when her father handed her to 
her seat in the phaeton, the uneasiness which had arisen from a 
want of confidence in her driver had in a great measure disap- 
peared. Lewis waited, with the reins in his hand, till the general 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


135 


had moiiDted and ridden ott with W'alter, wlio acquiesced silently 
in the change of companion; then sihinging lightly to his place, ho 
desired the man at the horses’ heads to stand aside, and drove off. 
The iron-grays soon found out the difference between their late con- 
ductor and their present one, and after one or two slight attempts 
to gain their own way, gave up the point, and settled down into a 
quiet, steady trot. Annie, whose alarm had quickened her percep- 
tion on the subject, was not long in remarking the change, and 
turning to her companion observed, “ How doyau contrive to make 
the horses go so quietly, Mr. Arundel? When papa was driving 
them, they did nothing but dance and caper the whole w’ay, and 
at last, as you are aware, ran away with us.” 

Lewis, who considered that the present was a favorable opportuni- 
ty, which might never occur again, to uuburden his mind in regard 
to the skating affair, and was debating with himself bow he might 
best introduce the subject, heard her question meciianically, as it 
were, without it reaching the ears of his understanding, an(i it was 
not till be observed her look of surprise at receiving no answer to 
her query llial he hastened to reply, “1 beg your pardon, Aliss 
Grant, 1 was thinking on quite a different subject. 1 have lived 
such a hermit’s life of late wdth poor Walter, that 1 have bccomo 
dreadfully absent.” 

” 1 merely asked by what charm jmu bad contrived to tame these 
fiery steeds,” returned Annie, smiling at his evident bewilderment. 

” The charm of a steady hand and a strong arm,” Tei)lied Lewis, 
‘‘ But these hprses and I are old acquaintances; we had a struggle 
once for the mastery, and 1 conquered, which they have not forgot- 
ten.” He then gave her a short account of the runaw’ay scene ia 
Broadliurst Park, to which she listened with much interest. When 
he had concluded, Aunie remarked, “ How dreadful it must have 
been when they w^ere rushing toward the lake, and you felt un- 
certain whether you might be able to check their wild career! That 
lake seems destined to become the scene of ilangerous adventures* 
1 must take this opportunity,” she continued, with a faint blush, 
‘‘of thanking jmu tor saving my life; in the few hurried lines 1 
wrote you, 1 am afraid 1 scMicely made you understand how much 
1— in fact, that 1 am not ungrateful.” 

It was now Lewis’s turn to feel embarrassed. The moment bo 
had sought for was arrived; he must confess that which would turm 
his companion’s gratitude into aversion; he must forfeit her good 
opiiion irretrievably, and probably for this very reason (so perverse 
is human nature), he, for the first time, discovered that he valued it 
highl3\ Annie was the only member of the family (with the excep- 
tion, perhaps, of Cburles Leicester) who bad never caused him to 
feel painfully bis dependent situation, and it had not escaped his 
notice bow% on several occasions, she had interfered to save him 
from some trifling annoj'ance, which her wmman's tact lecl her to 
feel would be doubly mortifying to bis proud and sensitive nature. 
Still he bad resolved to make the confession, and with him to re- 
solve and to do were one and the same thing. Another difficulty 
that rendered his tasi\ more embarrassing was that, in order to make 
his explanation intelligible, he must revert to Lord Bellefield’s in- 
sult, and though, at that moment, nothing would have given hira 


136 


LEWIS ARUJs^DEL. 


greater satisfaction than to bestow on that unworthy scion of no- 
bility a sound horsewhipping, he shrunk from the idea of being sup- 
posed capable of the littleness of seeking to revenge himself by in- 
juring his enemy in the affections of this betrothed. Thinking, 
however, was useless; the more he reflected, the more embariassed 
did he become, so he plunged at once in medias res, by exclaiming,^ 
“ Toil can not be aware, Miss Grant, of the pain j^our words give 
me; far from deserving your gratitude, 1 must implore your paidon 
lor having nearly sacrificed your life to my unfortunately warm 
temper and revengeful feelings; nor shall 1 again enjoy peace of 
mind till 1 have obtained your forgiveness, should i indeed be fort- 
unate enough to succeed in doing so.” 

At this singular address, Annie opened her large eyes and regard- 
ed her companion with uninixed astonishment, feeling by no means 
satisfied lliyt he had not suddenly taken have of his senses, ^ot 
heeding her surprise, however, Lewis continued,” In order to make 
my tale intelligible, I must revert to an occurrence which ] would 
rather, for many reasons, have left unmentioned; but you will, 1 
hope, do me the justice to believe that 1 am actuated by no un- 
worthy motive in alluding to it. About a year ago my favorite 
dog became entangled while swimming in the Serpentine River, and 
would have been drowned if 1 bad not jumped in and saved liim.” 

“ 1 know, 1 saw it all; we were driving in the park at the time,” 
interruptgd Annie eagerly. 

” As I regained the bank,” resumed Lewis, ” a gentleman whom 
1 have since learned to be your cousiu. Lord Bellefielyl, came up and 
offered me a sum of money for tlie dog. 1 had not accomplished 
Faust’s rescue without some risk, for though 1 am a good swimmer, 
my wet clothes Kept dragging me down; and 1 confess the offer of 
money for an animal I had just imperiled my life to save irritated 
me, and 1 returned Lord Bellefield an answer which, perhaps, he 
w'as justified in considering impertinent. When Mr. Leicester iu- 
^trodiiced me to his brother on the day of the skating party, it was 
evident he had not forgotten this transaction, and he soon tound an 
opportunity to address me in a style which could only have been 
applied to a dependent with safety.” 

As he spoke lliese words in a tone of bitter contempt, bis eyes 
flasliiug and his cheeks burning, his companion murmured as though 
she were tninking aloud, ” It was ungenerous of him, in the ex- 
treme,” Lewis remained silent for a moment, and then continued 
in a calmer voice, ” 1 am by nature ot a lamentably basty temfcr, 
and my impulse would have led me to resent Lord Bellefield's in- 
sult on the spot; but many considerations witldield me, ami still pos- 
sessed by angry feeling, 1 joined tlie party on the lake. Alter the 
ice had given way, while I was assisling (hose who clung to tlie 
edges to scramble out, 1 first became aware that you were in the 
water, anti 1 w^as about to jump in and swim to your assistance 
when, by some ill-luck, your cousin approached in a state ot great 
excitement, and ordered me authoritatively to ‘ save my master’s 
daughter.’ ” 

” Oh! how could he saj" such a thing?” exclaimed Annie indig- 
nantly. 

” As he spoke,” lesumed Lewis, ” some evil spirit seemed to take 


LEWIS AKU-NDEL. 


lo7 

possession of me, anil, to annoy him, 1 bowed and drew back, say- 
ing, ‘ Your lordship must excuse me— 1 am no squire of dames:’ 
adding lliat of course he would rescue you himself. From the 
irritation produced by my reply, 1 discovered that his lordship was 
unable to swim, and "having reason to suppose your safety was es- 
pecially important to him, the ficmdish idea crossed my mind that 
by leavin" you to perish 1 could revenge myself on him more eftec- 
ually than by any other means.” 

” How could you be so imjusl, so cruel, even in idea?” inter- 
rupted Annie, reproachfully. ‘‘ 1 who have never injured you in 
thought, woni, or deed; but you were maddened at the time and 
knew not what you did.” 

‘‘1 must indeed have been mad,” exclaimed Lewis, completely 
overcome by the kindness of these last words, ‘‘ w^hen 1 could even 
for a moment forget the gentle courtesy with which you have al- 
ways treated me— the consideration — the — ” He paused abruptly 
and pressed his hand to his lorehead as if to shut out some hateful 
vision— a relaxation of vigilance of which the near side horse took 
advantage to shy at his own shadow and break into a canter, which 
maneuver restored Lewis’s self-possession in an instant: the rein was 
again lightened, and the culprit admonished by a sharp stroke of 
the whip that he must not indulge in such caprices for the future, 
ere his driver resumed: ‘‘ 1 had scarcely formed the idea you so 
justly stigmatize as cruel w^hen the atrocit 3 ^ of the act flashed across 
me, and as Lord Bcllefield ran ofl to procure a bout, 1 sprung into 
tlie water and swam toward jmu, when, imagine the agony of mind 
wilh which 1 perceived that you would sink before 1 could reach 
you! At that moment 1 felt what it was to be a murderer! The 
rest of the tale you have no doubt heard from others — how it pleased 
the Almight}" to permit the instinct of my noble dog to become llie 
instrumeut by which you were saved from death, and I from a life 
of remorse, to w'hich death itself would have been preferable. Of 
this 3 m u are already aware; it only remains for me to add that if 
the deepest self abhorrence, (he most sincere repentance for the past 
may weigh with you, you will forgive me the wrong 1 meditated. ” 
At this morneul the sound of horses’ feet cantering gave notice that 
General Grant was about to eftect a junction with the main Dod\’, 
and Annie replied hastily, “ As far as 1 have anything to forgive, 
Mr. Arundel, 1 do so most heart il 3 ^ If for a moment you thought 
of allowing my life to be sacrificed, you riskeil your own to save it 
immediately afterward, so that 1 remain your debtor, even pulting 
to day’s adventure out of the account — for 1 fully believe papa and 
1 were in a lair \vay to break our necks, though he would not allow 
it.” 

” Well, Annie,” remarked the general, riding up to his daughter’s 
side, ” you don’t appear to be frightened now.” 

‘‘ jS'o. papa,” w'as the reply, ” there’s nothing to be alarmed at; 
the horses go as quietl}^ as possible.” 

” Ah! 1 thought 1 had prelt}’ well tamed them,” returned the 
general triumphantly; ‘‘you scarcely find them at all difficult to 
restrain now, Mr. Arundel, 1 presume.” 

‘‘They do pull a little strougly even yet, sir,” returned Lewis 
quietly; ” that glove was whole when 1 took the reins.” As he 


13S 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


spoko lifi held up his left hand, and disclosed two large rents, caused 
by friction. 

“ Hum!” replied the general, slightly disconcerted, “ well, you’ve 
driven them very steadily; don’t hurry them, take them in cool; 
AV alter and 1 will precede you, and explain how this adventure 
came aoout.” So saying he gave his horse the rein, and he and 

alter cantered on 

‘‘ Lord Bellefield has behaved abominably,” observed Annie ab- 
rupt y, after they had proceeded some distance in silence; ” he ought 
to ap(»logize to you, and I have a great mind to make him do so.” 

” Do not think of such a thing,” returned Lewis hastily. ” It 1 
can read his character. Lord Bellefield is a very proud man, and to 
one whom he considers his inferior he could not bring himself to 
apologize; nor, on calmlyreviewing 1113 ^ ovn conduct, can 1 entirely 
acquit m\'selt of having given him cause of offense; in my manner 
toward him 1 have shown loo plainly my forgetfulness ot our dift'er- 
cnce ot station. Feeling that one who is by birth the sou ot a soldier, 
a man of old tamil}^ and a gentleman in the highest sense ot the 
word, is any man’s equal, 1 overlooked the distinction between the 
heir to a peeif>ge and a poor tutor, and 1 treated Lord Bellefield, as 
1 would ail}' other man whose manner displeased me, cavalierl}^ 
without considering, or indeed caring, in what light my conduct 
might appear to him. This error 1 am resolved to avoid for the 
future, and it he will, on his part, forbear lurther insult, it is all 1 
desire. Believe me,” added Lewis, in a tone which carried con- 
viction with it, ” 1 do not undervalue your kindness in advocating 
my cause, but 1 would not have you suffer lurther annoyance on 
my account; so it you have really forgiven me, you will best show 
it "by forgetting the whole mutter as speedily as possible.” 

Annie shook her head as though she considered such a termina- 
tion to the affair liighly improbable, merely replying, “ Perhaps 
you are rigiit in thinking 1 should do more harm than good by m 3 " 
iiilerference; at all events, 1 will he guided in the matter by 3 'our 
■wishes. And now, Mr. Arundel,” she continued, “ let me say what 
1 hare of leu wished, but liav^e never been able to find an opportunity 
to tell 3 "ou before, and that is, that as long as 3^011 are with us— not 
that 1 mean to limit it only to that time — 1 hope 3 "ou will regard me 
as a friend. 1 have heard from my Cousin Cliarles an outline of 
the circumstances through which my father was fortiiuate enough 
to secure your valuable assistance for poor Walter, and I can well 
conceive how greatly you must feel the loss of the society of your 
mother and sister.” 

‘‘ 1 know not how to thank you lor such unexampled kindness — 
you are indeed returning gtjod tor evil,” replied Lewis warml 3 "; he 
paused for a moment, as if he were considering how best he might 
express himself, then added, “ As far as may be 1 shall most gladl}" 
avail myself of the privilege of your friendship. 1 can not tell you 
the weight you have taken off my mind by this convincing proof 
of your forgiveness. You may imagine how exquisitely painful, 
knowing how little 1 deserved them, were all the civil speeches peo- 
ple considered it necessary to make me on my ‘ gallant conduct,’ as 
they teimed it; as if there were anything woudertul in swimming a 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 130 

few yards to sa^'e a life! — the wonder would be for any man who 
could swim not to do so.” . 

‘‘ And yet, thinking thus lightly of the peiil, you tell me you were 
so carried uway by your angry feeling as to hesitate whether or nol 
to leave me to perish,” returned Annie reflectively; ” how strange 
that the mmd can be engrossed by passions so completely as to ban - 
ish all its natural impulses.” 

‘‘You will laugh at me and think my German education has flilecl 
my brain with strange wild fancies,” replied Levs is, ‘‘ but 1 believe 
that we are under a species of demoniacal possession at such mo- 
ments—that by indulging our evil feelings inst^d of resisting them, 
we have given Satan additional power over us. You know the 
legend of the wild huntsman; 1 can not but look upon the descrip* 
tion of the spirit-riders who accompany the baron, one on a white, 
the other on a black steed, and alternately ply him with good ai^ 
evil counsel, less as a metaphor than a reality.” 

” You believe, then, that we are constantly surrounded by spirit- 
ual beings imperceptible to our bodily senses?” asked Annie. ” U 
is rather a tearful idea.” 

” Believe,” returned Lewis, ‘‘ is perhaps too strong a term to ap- 
ply to any theory not distinctly borne out by Holy Writ, but as far 
as 1 have studied the subject, 1 think the existence of spiritual 
beings of opposite natures, some good^ some evil, is clearly indi- 
cated by Scripture; and there are many passages which would lead 
one to suppose that they are permitted, under certain restrictions, 
to interest themselves in mundane affairs, and influence the thoughts 
which are the spiings of human actions — immaterial agents, in fact, 
for working out the will ot God. IN or do 1 see anything fearful iu 
the idea; on the contrary, as we can not doubt that it is our own 
fault if the evil spirits ever prevail against us, and that good angels 
witness our struggles to do right, and are at hand to assist us, 1 
consider the theory a most consolatory one.” 

” 1 never looked at the subject in this light before,” observed 
Annie thoughtfull}'-; ” of course, like most other people, 1 had a 
vague, visionary kind ot belief in the existence ot good angels and 
evil spirits, but i never applied the belief practically, never imagined 
they had anything to do wdth me ; and yet it seems reasonable that 
what you have suggested should be the case. Oh! it we could but 
have our spiritual eyes open so that we could see them, we then 
should love the good angels so much, and hate and fear the evil ones 
to such a degree that it would be quite easy to act rightly and im- 
possible to do wrong.” 

“ I suppose if our faith were as strong as it should be,” returned 
Lewis, ‘‘ we ought so to realize the truths ot Christianity that we 
should feel as you describe.” 

His companion made no reply, but sat for some minutes appar- 
ently pursuing the train of thought to which his words had given 
rise. At length rousing herself, she turned to Lewis, saying, with a 
naive smile, ” We shall be capital triends, 1 see; 1 did not know you 
could talk so nicely about things ot this kind; 1 delight in people 
who give me new ideas. Y"ou must teach me German too, when all 
this bustle is over. I shall ask papa to let you do so — I do want to 
learn German above everything, and to read Schiller, and Goethe, 


140 


LEWIS AEUNDEL. 


and La M<Ttte Fouque, and all sorts of people. Will you lai^e com- 
passion on my ignorance and accept me as a pupil? 1 shall not be 
quite as dull as poor Walter, 1 hope.” 

” 1 shall be delighted to play master ot the ceremonies to intro- 
duce you to those of the German authors who are best worth know- 
ing, always provided that the general approves ot my so -doing,” re- 
turned Lewis. 

” Oh! papa will approve,” replied Annie; ” he can care nothing 
about it one way or another, and whenever that is the case, he al- 
ways lets me do as L like; and as to Aunt Martha — well, there may 
be some difficulty with her, 1 confess, but the most ferocious ani- 
mals are tamed by kindness, and it’s hard if I can’t coax her into 
submission to my will and pleasure.” 

” 1 flatter myself I have become rather a favorite with Miss Liv- 
ingstone since the affair of the hoises,” observed Lewus; ‘‘ 1 have 
heard her describe me as ‘ a ^mung man ot unusual abilities and ir- 
reproachable moral character ’ to three distinct sets ot visitors dur- 
ing the last week.” 

“You’ve caught her tone exactly,” returned Annie, laughing; 
“ but it’s very abominable ot you to deride mj'’ venerable aunt.” 

And so they chatted on, Lewis forgetting alike his proud reserve 
and his dependent position, in his pleasure in once again meeting 
with the kindness and sympathy to which he had been so long a 
stranger, and Annie engrossed by the joy with which she perceived 
the ice that care and sorrow had frozen round the heart of her young 
companion melt before the fascination ot her look and manner; and 
when the phaeton drew up before the ample portals of Broadhurst it 
would have been bard to decide which of the two felt most sorry 
that that pleasant drive had come so quickly to an end. 

Our train still runs along the Railhoad of Life, but a most im- 
portant station has been passed wdien Lewis first arrived at the con- 
clusion that he baa ceased to dislike Annie Grant. 


CHAPTER XXll. 

BE GRANDEVILLE MAKES A CONFIDENCE AND ELICITS CHARLEY 
LEICESTER’S IDEAS ON MATRIMONY. 

It was the morning of Twelfth-day, and in Bioadhurst’s ancient 
mansion confusion reigned supreme; for Twelfth-night was to be 
celebrated with liigli festivities; a grand ball was about to be given 
to the county, and legions ot upholsterers’ men had taken the house 
by storm, and were zealously employed in turning it out of the win- 
dows. Minerva was great upon the occasion; starched to the 
she rustled through the aparfments like an austere whirlwind, strik- 
ing an icy terror to the heans ot the stoutest workmen, and leading 
the chief npliolsterer himself the life of a convicted teb n on the 
treadmill. Solitary confinement, implying separation from Minerva, 
would have been a boon to that harassed tradesman Whatever he 
put up she instantly had taken down; all his suggestions she vio- 
lently opposed; he never gave an order that she did not contradict; 
when he was down-stairs she required him at the top of the house; 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


141 


if he appeared without his hat, she look him out of doors. Fox’s 
Alarlyrs vvouid seem a mere book ot sports beside a faithtul chroni- 
cle of all lliat that upholsterer sutfered on the occasion at the hands 
of Minerva Livingstone. Had he not been endowed with remark- 
able tenacity ot life, ere he had set that house in order he would 
have died. 

Among others of the dispossessed, Charley Leicester, having re- 
treated from room to room before the invaders, at last, fairly driven 
out, was fain to seek refuge in tlie jrarden. In this extremity he 
betook himself to a cermin terrace- walk, where he trusted to find 
sunshine and quiet. Having, as he fondly imagined, secured these 
necessary ingredients to his happiness, he was proceeding to recruit 
exhausted nature with a mild cigar, when a footstep was heard ap- 
proaching, and immediately afterward the erect and portly form ot 
the De Grandeville hove in sight and bore down upon him. Now it 
must be known that these two gentlemen regarded each other with 
very different feelings — Leicester, albeit by no means given to dis- 
cover traits ot character in his acquaintances, could not but per- 
ceive the absurd self-consequence and pompous pride which were so 
palpably displayed in De Grandeville’s every look and action, and 
wdiile tills revolted his good taste, and produced in him a passive 
feeling of dislike, the stylo of conversation usually adopted by the 
redoubtable Marmaduke, wdiich, however it might begin, invariably 
ended in some form of self glorification, actively bored him. Ac- 
cordingly, it was with anything but a feeling of satisfaction that he 
now witnessed his approach. De Granileville, on the other hand, 
looked up to Leicester on account of his connection wdth the peer- 
age, and knowing his popularity with the best set of men about 
town, regal ded him as an oracle on all points of etiquette and hien- 
sknice. Being, therefore, at that moment in the act of revolving in 
his anxious mind a most weight}^ matter on which he required good 
advice, Charley was the man of all others he most wished to meet 
with. Marching vigorously onward he soon reached the spot where, 
lialf-sitting, halt-lying on the broad top of a low stone balustrade, 
Leicester was ruminating over his ciarar. Having halted in front of 
his victim, De Grandeville raised his hand to his forehead in a mili- 
tary salute, which maneuver, acriuired partly in jest, partly in 
earnest, had now become habitual to him. 

“ Ar— enjoying a weed, ehl Mr. Leicester?” he besan; ” ’pon 
my w’ord, you’ve selected a most picturesque spot for your bivouac; 
it it’s not against the standing orders to smoke here. I’ll join you in 
a cigar, for — ar— to tell you the truth, I rather want five minutes’ 
conversation with you.” 

” I’m in for it,” thought Leicester; ‘‘ well, what must be, must; 
the’sun will be off here in about half an hour, and 1 suppose 1 can 
endure him for that space of time.” He only said, however, hold- 
ing out his cigar case languidly, ‘‘ Can 1 offer you one?” 

” Ar— many thanks, you’re one of the few men whose taste I can 
rely on; but— ar— really, the things they sell now, and pretend to 
call genuine, are such trash, that — ar — 1 am forced to import my 
own. 1 sent out an agent to Cuba express— ar — at least, Robinson, 
who supplies my club— ar— the Caryatides, you know— sent him on 
a hint from me, and 1 can’t match the cigars he bought me any- 


142 


LEAVIS ARUNDEL. ^ 


where; I’ve never met wilh ain^thiug like them. Ask your brother; 
he knows them— ai— 1 let him have Jialf a box, as the greatest 
tavor. 

“ Bell lives on cigars and gin-and-water when he’s in his native 
state,” retiirned Leicester, slightly altering his position so that he 
could rest his back more conveniently against a statue; ” if he’s 
barn going too fast, and got out of condition, he takes a couise of 
that sort of thing, and it brings him right again; it's like turning a 
screwy horse out to grass.” 

De Grande ville, who had appeared somewhat abstracted during 
this iuteiesting record of the domestic habits of Lord 'Bellefield, 
change the conversation by observing, “ Ar— yoii see, when a man 
of a certain— art- position in society, gets— ar — toward middlti life — 
ar— say, three or four-and-thirty, it appears to me that it adds very 
much to his weight to — ar — to — ” 

“ To drink brown-stout instead of pale ale,” exclaimed Leicester, 

more eagerly than his wont; “ I observed j^ou did so at , when 

we were treating the incorruptible electors, and it struck me as a 
decided mistake.” 

“ Ar — yes, 1 believe — that is, of course— a^ou are rigid; but that 
was not exactly what 1 was going to observe,” returned Oe Grande- 
ville, slightly embarrassed; “ in tact, 1 was going to say that it adds 
to a man’s weight in society, increases his influence, and improves 
his general position, to be— ar — well married!” 

“ About that 1 scarcely know; it’s not a matter to decide on 
hastily,” returned Leicester, coolly lighting a fresh cigar, which, 
being of an obstinate disposition, required much scientific manage- 
ment and considerable hard puffing to induce it to perform proper ly; 
” in regard to (putt) marriage, JVir. De Grand eville, looking at it 
philosophically— and 1 can assure you it's a subject on which I’ve 
expended much (puff, puff) serious thought— looking at it iu a 
reasonable, business-like point of view, it becomes a mere (puff) 
affair of debtor and creditor — a question of what you lose and what 
you gain. Let us try the matter by various tests, and see how the 
account stamls. We’ll begin with the watchwords of the day, for 
instance, ‘ Liberty, Fraternit}’’, and Equality.’ Liberty — a single 
man can do as be liaes without cousiilting anybody; a married man 
can do as he likes only when his wife shares the inclination, w'hich, 
as no tW'O people ever look at anything in exactly the same point of 
view, appears a somewhat stringent restriction. Fraternity— a 
single mail may choose his friends where he feels inclined, male or 
female, as it may have pleased Providence to create them ; a married 
man dare not, unless he has a taste for domestic misery, and pos- 
sess! s eyes which are nail-proof, cultivate a female friend, and 
somehow (me feels, it one were married, one should not exactly 
wish to have a set of men dangling about one’s house. Equality — 
a single man, it he has received a. gentleman’s education, wears a 
good coat, and has wit enougli to kecq? himself warm, is anybody’s 
equal; a married man must bear all his wife’s burdens as w'ell as ids 
own, and doesn’t get asked by the Browns, because the Smiths have 
told him her great grandfather was transport(id for stealing a pew- 
ter ])()t. INow let us look at the per contra side. A single lufiii 
soon gsts tired of his unlimited liberty; there’s no tun iu having 


LEWIS ARUJSTDEL. 


143 


your own way it you’ve no one to contradict you; a little opposi- 
tion becomes a positive luxury, and this you’re sure to obtain by 
matrimony; then, as to traternity, friends are better than acquaint- 
ances, certainly, just as a muie is preferable to a jackass, but 
they’re not much comfoit to one, after all; ray most intimate friend 
lives in Ceylon, and writes to me once in five years about hunting 
elephants; now your wile is part of your goods and chattels, be- 
longs to you as completely as your boot-jack, and w^hen in bouts of 
indolence you wish to sit with your soul in slippers, she, it she is 
worth her salt, is ready to pull off the psychological boots that are 
pinching your mind, and prevent the dolcefar rdente from becoming 
meaningless and insipid. Lastly, there’s no such equality in the 
w^orld as between husband and wife when they are really suited to 
each other, appreciate their relative positions justly, and endeavor to 
make practice and principle coincide. These are my ideas regard- 
imr the marriage state, Mr. De Grandeville; but His no use discuss- 
ing the matter; society has long since decided the question in favor 
of Wedlock, and there are only enough exceptions to prove the rule. 
I3yrou enunciated a great truth when he declared 

“ ‘ Man was not formed to live alone;’ 

Ihe animal’s gregarious, sir, and the solitaiysystem is totally op- 
p(»sed to all its tastes and habits.” 

” Ar— really— ’poll my w^ord, you seem to have studied the sub- 
ject deeply, Mr. Leicester,” returned De Grandeville, who w^as 
somewhat astonished at Charley’s volubility, and too completely 
blinded by sijlf-importance to perceive that the other was more or 
less laughing at him; “however, the drift ot your argument ap- 
pears in favor of matrimony, and— ar— in fact — ar— 1 quite think 
as you do on the matter. jNow, in iny position 1 consider such an 
arrangement would be most desirable, always supposing one can 
meet with — ar — a suitable partner.” 

“ Ay, there’s the rub,” rejoined Leicester, leisurely flipping the 
ashes from the end of bis cigar. 

“ 1 consider that 1 have a ri<ibt to look — ar — high,” continued De 
Grandeville, folding bis arms with dignity; “ our dates from 

the Conquest; our immedi.tte ancestor came over as equerry to 
AVilliam of Normandy, 1 suppose you are aware how the name 
rose Irom an incident in that invasion.” 

Leicester professed liis ignorance of the anecdote, and De Grande- 
ville proceeded: “My ancestor was riding near the person of his 
liege lord some few days after the victory of Hastings, when at the 
extreme verge of the horizon he descried the city of Canterbury, and 
iu the excitement ot the moment he exclaimed, pointing with his 
mailed hand, * Voila! une grande ville.’ William overheard the re- 
mark, and fixing his piercing glance upon him, observed sarcastical- 
ly, ‘ llal sayest thou so? he who hath been the first to discern yon 
great city should be the first to enter it.’ ‘ By the grace of God, 
and wdtli your permission, sire, so 1 will,’ exclaimed my ancestor. 
William nodded assent, my ancestor clapped spurs to his‘hor8e, and 
never drew bridle till Ihe standard of Normandy floated on the high- 
est tower of Canterbury. For this gallant exploit he w’as made gov- 


lU 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


ernor of the city, aort received the name and titles ot De Grande- 
ville. It’s — ar— a creditable story.” 

” Extremely,” returned Leicester, yawning; ‘‘I’ve a vague idea 
the man we all came from was hanged for hoise-stealing.” 

‘‘ At— yes~very good,” rejoined De Grandeville, lecognizing an 
excellent jest in Ids companion’s asseition; “hut, as I was about 
to observe, in my position a man owes, as it were, a duty to his 
family; he ought not to marry a nobody.” 

“Decidedly, such a connection should be avoided,” returned 
Charley sententiously, presenting the hot end ot his cigar to an-in- 
quisilive snail which appeared inclined to join the party, 

“ Ar— the De Grandevilles have been from time immemorial large 
landed proprietors," resumed tlieir giandiloquent descendant; “ halt 

the country ot belongs to them; the estates held by my branch 

ot the taniil}^ are immense, and llu ugh — ar — just at piesent they are 
not exactly in my possession, yet it anything were to happen to my 
Cousin Hildebrand and his seven bo) S, 1 might be placed in — ar — 
a very ditlerent position; therefore, in looking out for a vvite, 1 hold 
it incumbent on me to select a lady who wouTd not disgrace a prom- 
inent situation were she called upon to fill one.” 

Leicester (whose atlention had been thoroughly engrossed by the 
snail, which, after having made sundry 1 utile attempts to avoid the 
cigar and continue its onward course, had at length yielded the 
point, and having turned round, was now crawling off in an oppo- 
site direction) somewhat astonished his ('.oiii panion hy quoting with 
great empressemeiit the words of the old nursery ballad: 

“ vlff he set 
With his opera hat,” 

as, however, he immediately afterward assumed a look ot the deep- 
est attention, De Giandeville set it down as an instance ot the ec- 
centricity ot genius, and continued: “ Ar— this, as you must per- 
ceive, renders certain qualifications essential in the object of my 
choice. 1 could select no one who by birth and position was not 
perfectly unexceptionable. 1 should also require lier to possess, in 
an eminent degree, the manners ot society; another great point 
would be — ar — ” 

“ Plenty of tin,” suggested Charley, making n face at the retreat- 
ing snail. 

“ Ar — yes — in my position it would ot course be a matter ot pru- 
dence, before bringing upon myself the expenses of a family, to as- 
certain tliat 1 can coiiu'naud an income suflicieiU to enable me to 
mix in the set to which— ar— in point of fact, 1 t»elong.’' 

“Nothing under £3,000 a 3^ear would suit my book,” replied 
Leicester—” £3,000 per annum and perfection 1 might put up with, 
but £4,030 would be better without an actual angel, and beyond 
that mark l*d bate an attaching quality in the damsel lor every ad- 
ditional £500 in the funds.” 

“ Ar— I have reason to believe that the income of the lady in re- 
gard to whom 1 am about to ask 3'our advice exceeds the sum you 
first mentioned,” replied De Grandeville. 

“ Oh, there is then a real hona fule lady in the. case— you’ve posi- 


LEWIS AKUiS^DEL. 


145 


tively marKcd (Io\tii your bird?” exclaimed Leicester. ” Pray^ 
have I Uje -houor of her acquaintance?” 

” Ar — yes —1 liave often met her in your society — in fact, she 
forms one of the partj^ now domesticated at Broadhurst. ” 

“ Stayin<T in the liouse, eh?” returned Charley, feeling slightly 
curious. ” By Jove! who can it be? You’re not going to try and 
cut out BeUefield by proposing for my Cousin Annie, are you? 1 
wish you would, it would sell Bell so beautitully. ” 

“(Jr course — ar— you are jokino,” returned De Giandeville 
proudly; ” 1 would not do sucIl a shabby thing by his lordship, 
upon any consideration.” 

Leicester was amused at the cool way in which his companion 
scemcfl to take it for granted that he had only to enter the field 
against his brother in order to secure the prize; he kept his enter- 
tainment to himself, however, merely replying; ” Well, if it isn’t 
Annie, who is it? 1 can scarcely imagine you have set your affec- 
tions on ]\Iiss Livingstone.” 

” 4’lie Livingsiones are a good old famih%” returned De Grande- 
ville, ” but the representative of the name to whom jmu allude 
would have been a more suitable match for my late exceUeut father 
than for in3^selt. No, sir, the lady to tv’hom 1 may piobably afford 
the opportunity of allying lierself to the' house of De Grandeville is 
as suitable in age as in all other qualifications— Miss Peyton is in 
her lwo-and-lwenti<‘th year.” 

” Miss how much?” exclaimed Leicester impetuous!}", sitting bolt 
upright and flinging the remnant of his cigar after the snail which, 
was yet striving to make good its retreat. 

” Miss Laura Peyton,” returned De Grandeville; ” 1 don’t won- 
der you are surprised. 1 am aware, as well as yourself, that her 
graml father was in trade; 1 can assure you, that stood in my way 
for a long time, and it was not till 1 had gone through the pedigree 
carefully with a friend in the Herald’s College, and clearly traced 
back the family to the time of Edward the Third, that 1 ever 
thought seriously of the thing.” 

“And how do you mean to carry on the campaign?” asked 
Leicester, who had by this time recovered his composure; “do you 
intend to lay regular siege to the young lady’s affections, or is it to 
be a look and die, Tcni, mdi, mci affair?” 

“Ar — really--! am scarcely sanguine enough to hope to carry 
the citadel by a coup- de- main,*' returned De Grandeville; ” but my 
tactics will he very much regulated by those of my fair enem}: at 
present; if 1 might judge by one or two slight skirmishes we have 
had together, the garrison will not hold out to extremity when once 
the breastworks are taken, and the place properly invested.” - At' 
this moment a servant appioaclied De Grandeville, with a message 
from General Grant, requesting his presence. ‘‘ Ar — yes— say LU 
attend the general immediately,” was the reply; then, as the serv 
ant departed, I>e Gi'andeville continued: ‘‘ Ar— the course of true 
love nev’er did run smooth, you see, Mr. Leicester; ar — 1 shall have 
an opportunity of speaking to you again on this matter, and hearing 
your opinion more in full; at present T must wish you good-morn- 
ing.” So saying, he slightly raised his hat in salutation, and 
marched off in a great state of dignified self-complacency. 


14G 


LEWIS ARUXDEL. 


Leicester watched him till he was out of sight; then, springing . 
from his seat, he began pacing up and down the ten act* wiili hasty 
strides, muttering, from time to time, such complimentary lernarks 
as “Insufferable puppy! Conceited ass!” all <.t which evidently 
bore reterence to Ids late companion. Having let off a little ot his 
extra steam by this means, he gave vent to the following soliloqu}^: 
“ Well, I'm nicely in tor it this time! Because a love affair, wiih 
the chance of possible consequences wasn’t troulile eiiDuirh, 1 must 
liave a rival step in— and such a rival— wliy, the very sight ot that 
man disagrees with me;— and then to hear" him talk, it’s positively 
sickening! — I’ll be off to London'lo-morrow morning;— and yet 1 do 
like the girl — 1 know 1 do, because it occurred to me only yesterday 
that 1 wasn’t halt good enougli for her. 1 suppose she looks upon 
me as a mere fortune-hunter — thinks 1 only care about ber for the 
sake ot her money. 1 wish she hadn’t a farthing! 1 wish — eh! 
what am 1 talking about? ileigho! that’s another curse of poverty; 
a poor devil like me can’t even afford the luxury of a disinterested 
attachment. Then that man — that De Grandeville — to hear an ani- 
mal like that debating whether slie was good ouougli lor him! I 
declare, he’s made me feel quite feverish! I’d no idea it was pos- 
sible for anything to excite me to such a degree;— it the notion were 
not too preposterous, 1 should really begin to fancy 1 must be falling 
in love! She never can liave the had taste to like him — in fact, 
there’s nothing to like in him — and yet the fellow seemed conhilent; 
but that is the natufe of the brute; — thougli 1 don’t know, women 
are such tools sometimes, she might take him at his own price — 
that solitary swagger of his might go down with some of the sex; — 
once let a woman fancy a man to be a hero, or a martyr, or a patriot, 
or any other uncomfortable celebrity ot a like nature, and she will 
be ready to throw herself at his head;— jusBas if those fellows Were 
not the very last men in the world to \yaut wives! 1 suppose it’s 
the additional odds in favor of widowhood that constitute the great 
attraction — females are naturally Ciipricious. Well, 1 shall try and 
lake the matter easily, at all events; I dare siiy it won’t break my 
heart whichever way it goes; 1 shall make observations, and if she 
really has the bad taste to prefer this man, he’s welcome to her; a 
woman who could love him would never do for my wite; that one 
fact would argue an amount ot incompatibility of temper which 
wmuld be furnishing work for Doctors’ Commons befoie the first 
year’s connubial felicity was over. I wonder whether there s any 
luncheon going on; it’s astonishing how thirsty aQything of this 
kind makes me. Pale ale i must have — or ruit cmlumT* And, hav- 
ing arrived at-lhis conclusion, he thrust his bauds — of whose deli- 
cate Appearance he was especially careful— into his pockets, to pre- 
serve them from the cold, and strolled off to put his resolution into 
practice. In the meantime Marmaduke De Giandeville, wliile listen 
ing with liis outward ears to General Grant’s dull electioueering details 
was inwardly congratulating himself on the favorable impression he 
had made on that very sensible young man, the Honorable Chailes 
Leicester, and thinking what a useful ally he had secured to assist 
him in carrying out his matrimonial project. 

Verily there are as many comedies performed off the stage as 
upou il ! 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


147 


CHAPTER XXIll. 

RELATES, AMONG OTHER NOTABLE MATTERS, HOW CHARLEY 
LEICESTER WAS BESET BY AN AMAZON. 

The ball at Broadhiirst was a very wonderful affair indeed; it 
was given for a special purpose, and that purpose was to conciliale 
everybody, and induce everybody to promise General Grant their 
vote and interest at the ensuing election. Accordingly, everybodv 
was invited— at least everybody who bad the slightest pretension to 
be anybody — and everybody came; and, as almost everybody 
brought somebody else with them, a wufe, or a daughter, or the 
young lady from London who w^as spending Christmas with them, 
there was no lack of guests. The object ot the entertainment was 

no secret; and the king of the county, the Marquis ot C , being 

in the Conservative interest, and consequently anxious to secure the 
general's return, not only came himself, but actually brought a real 
live duke with him to exhibit to the company. This was a great 
stroke of policy, and told immensely, particularly with the smaller 
anybodies who were almost nobodies, but who, having associated 
with a duke, straightway became somebodies, and remained so ever 
after; moreover, in all cases of incipient radicalism, chartist ten- 
dencies, or socialist symptoms, his gi’ace was an infallible specific. 
Depend on it, tliere’s no better remedy for a certain sort of 
democracy than a decoction of straw^berry- leaves; apply that to the 
sore place and the patient instantly becomes sound in his opinions, 
and continues a healthy member of the body politic. The particular 
duke on the occasion in question was a very young one, little more 
than a boy in fact (if a duke can ever be considered in the light of a 
boy). This young nobleman had a leading idea — though you would 
hardly have supposed it to look at him — he believed that he was the 
best match in England, and so, in the conventional sense of the 
term, he undoubtedly was, aldiough he would have been very dear 
at the price to any woman wit.i a head and a heart. His pastors and 
masters, backed by the maternrd anxieties of a duchess unambitious 
of the dignities of d.owagcrship, had sedulously cultivated this one 
idea till it had assumed the character of a monomania, under the 
influence of which this unhappy scion of aristocracy looked upon 
life as a state of perpetual w^arfare against the wliole race of w’om- 
en, and was haunted by a dreadful vision of himself carried oft 
and forcibly married to the cliiet of a horde of female pirates wdth 
long tongues, longer nails, and an utter absence of creditable an- 
cestry. His outward duke (it w’e may be allowed the expression) 
was decidedly prepossessing. He was tad, iind not ungraceful in 
figure, and bad a bright, round, innocent face, as ot a good child; 
his hair w^as nicely brushed and parted; whiskers lie had none; in- 
deed, the stinginess of nature to him in this particular was so re- 
markable that, as the eldest Miss Simpkins afterward observed to a 
select audience ot uninvited younger sisters, “ So far from whisk- 
ers, my dears, now 1 come to "think of it, his grace had rather the 


148 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 




redcrue!*' However, take him “for all in all,’’ he was a very 
creditable yoiiiifij duke, and a perfect godsend on the occasion in 
question Then there was a graduated scale from his grace down- 
ward, leading through the aristocracy of birth to the aristocracy of 
riches, till it reached the elite of the county towns and the more pie- 
senjable specimens of 3 "eomen farmers. But let us join a group of 
people that we know, and hear what they think of the guests who 
are so rapidly assembling. 

In a snug corner of the reception-room, not far from a door lead- 
ing into the large drawing-room, stands one ol those ni3^ste?iou3 
innovations of modern upliolstei 3 ', a species of the genus ottoman, 
which resembles a Brobdingnagian mushroom, wdlh a thimble made 
to match, stuck in the middle of it. Seated at her ease upon this 
nondescript, half-buried by the yielding cushions, appeared the 
pretty hgure of Laura Peyton; by her side, attired in much white 
muslin crinolined to a balloon-like rotundity, but which apparently^ 
had shrunk abominably at the wash in the region round about its 
wearer’s neck and shoulders, sat another — well, from the juvenility 
of her dress and manners, we suppose we must say young lady, 
though it was a historical tact that she had been at school with 
Ann e Grant's mother; but then poor Mis. Giant married when she 
was quite a child, and died before she was thirty, and of course 
Miss Singleton must know her own age best, and she had declared 
herselt eight-and-twenty for the last five years. Ihis lady possessed 
one peculiarity: she alwa 3 ^s had a passion for somebody; whether 
the object was of the gentler or the sterner sex was all a matter of 
chance; but, as she was in the habit of observing, “ There existed 
in her nature a necessity for passionately loving,” and it has become 
proverbial that necessity has no law. The object of her adoration 
jUvst at present was “that darling girl,” Laura Peyton; and really 
that young lady was in herselt so lovable that to endeavor to account 
for jMiss [Singleton’s devotion by insinuating that the heiress was 
usually surrounded by all the most desirable young men in the room 
would be the height of ill-nature. 

“ Dear me!” exclaimed Miss Singleton, whose troublesome nat- 
ure had another necessity for liking to hear its own voice as often 
as possible; “ dear me! i wish 1 knew who all the people were. 
Dearest Miss Peyton, do you not sympathize? Ah, that tell-tale 
smile! We girls certainly are sadly curious; though 1 believe the 
men are just as bad, only they’re too proud to own it. But really, 
we must contrive to catch somebody who will tell us wdio everybody 
is; there’s that handsome, brave, clever Mr. Arundel: 1 shall make 
him a sign to come here— ah! he saw me directly — he zs so clever. 
Mr. Arundel, do tell me, who are all these people?” 

“Bather a comprehensive question,” returned Lewis, smiling; 

“ moreover, you could scarcely have applied to any one less able to 
answer it; tor beyond our immediate neighbors, 1 really do not 
know a dozen people in the room.” 

“ Mr. Arundel’s acquaintance lies rather among illustrious 
foreigners,” observed Miss Peyton, demurely. “ Were any mem- 
bers of the royal family of Persia present, tor instance, his intimate 
knowledge of the language, manners, and habits of that interesting 
nation would be invaluable to us.” 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 149 

“ As you are strong, be meiciful,” returned Lewis, in a tone of 
voice only to be beard by the young lady to whom be spoke. 

“ Dear me! bow very deligbtfull VVbat a thing it is to be so 
clever,” exclaimed Miss Singleton, arranging her bracelet, and 
rounding her arm (which was now one ot her best points) with an 
action that expressed, as plainly as words could have done, ” There, 
look at that— there’s grace tor you!” “Here comes some one 
wbo can tell us everything,” she continued; “that good-natured, 
tascinaling Mr. J^eicester, with hislovcsot whiskers all in dear little 
curls. Tiresome man! he w^on’t look Ibis way. Would you be so 
very good, Mr. Arundel, as to followr him and bring him here? 
Say Ih.at Miss Peyton 'add I w’ant him particularly.” 

“ 1 beg you’ll say nothing ot the kind, Mr. Arundel,” interposed 
Laura, quickly, with a very becoming blush. “ Really, Miss 
Singleton, you run on so \hat— ” 

“ 1 will deliver your message verbatim. Miss Singleton,” returned 
Lewis, with the same demure tone and manner in which Miss Pey- 
ton had referred to the Persian prince; and without waiting to 
mark the elfect ot his words, he mingled with the crow’d, and 
almost immediately returned with the gentleman in pursuit of whom 
he had been dispatched. Cliarles Leicester, ^ho was most elabo- 
ratel}’’ got up tor the occasion, though his good taste prevented him 
tronr running into any absurd extremes in dress, looked remarkably 
handsome, and, being flattered by the summons he had just re 
ceived, particularly happy. Both these tacts Miss Peyton discovered * 
at a glance, but whether urged by some secret consciousness, or an- 
noyed by an indescribable look of intelligence which lurked in the 
corners of Lewis’s dark eyes and revealed itself through the stern- 
ness of his compressed lips, she received him with marked cold- 
ness, and observed, in reply to his rfier to play showman to the col- 
lection of strange animals there assembled, that she had no taste for 
zoblogy, and that it was Miss Singleton’s curiosity he bad been 
summoned to satisfy. 

“ Yes, indeed, ]\lr. Leicester,” exclaimed that mature damsel, in 
no way daunted by a shade of discontetit, which, despite his en- 
deavors to the contrary, overspread the countenance of tlie gentle- 
man she was addressing; “ yes, indeed, I’m dying to know all sorts 
or things. In the first place, who's that tall stout gentleman in the 
wonderful waistcoat?” 

“ That,” replied Leicester, cooil}" examining the person indicated, 

“ that is — no, it isn’t! — Yes, surely!— 1 thought 1 w"as right— that is 
the Marquis of Carabbas.” Then, seeing from her manner, she did 
not recognize the name, he continued, “ He has enormous estates 
situated in — ” 

“ \There?” asked IMiss Singleton earnestly, thinking she had lost 
the name. 

“ That interesting tract ol country yclept, by John Parry, the 
Realms of Infantine Romance,” continued Leicester. 

“ Oh, ]Mr. Leicester, you’re laughing at me. How wicked of you 
— the Marquis of Carabbas! Let me see: hadn't he something to do 
with Whittington. and his Cat?” 

“ With the cat, possibly,” replied Leicester; “ for if my memory 
fail not, the fortunes ot the noble marquis, like those of the late 


150 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


lamentecl Lord Alayor ot London (own, were the result of telino 
sagacity, and it’s not likely there existed two such talented cals — 
even Puss in Boots may only be another episode in the career ot the 
same gifted individual.” 

” Another of its nine lives, in fact,” suggested Lewis. 

” Yes, of course,” rejoined Leicester. ” 1 dare say it was the 
original ‘ cat of nine tails,’ only, like the sibylline leaves, some of 
the manuscripls have been Ipst to posterity through the carelessness 
of some eltln Master of the Rolls.” 

“ 1 beg your pardon, but 1 really must interrupt 3"ou,” exclaimed 
Miss Singleton; ” can you tell me, soberly and seriously, who that 
very strange-lookins person may be who ha^ just seized the gen- 
eral’s hand, and nearly shaken his arm out of the socket?” 

Seeing that Laura Peyton’s eyes asked the same question, though 
her lips were silent, Leicester glanced in the direction indicated, 
and immediately replied, “That energetic female rejoices in (he name 
of Lady Mar— but is more commonly known among her intimates 
as Goodwood. In person she is what you behold; in charac- 

ter, she presents a most unmitigated specimen of the genu8 Amazon; 
for the rest, she is a very good woman at heart, but my especial 
torment ; she always calls me Charley, and her usual salutation is a 
slap on the back. She hunts, shoots, breaks in her own horses, has 
ridden a hurdle race, in which she came in a good second, and is 
reported to have dragooned her husband into popping the question 
by the threat of a sound horsewhipping; and now, Aliss Singleton, 
you’ll have an opportunity ot judging lor yourself, for she has caught 
sight of me, and is bearing down upon us in full sail.” 

“ Well, but is she really a lady?” inquired the astonished iMiss 
Singleton, who, in her philosophy, had most assuredly never dreamed 
of such a possibility as Jack Goodwood. 

“ She is the second daughter to Lord Oaks,” was the reply, “ and 
Goodwood is one of the Goodwoods, and is worth some £8,000 a 
year; but here she is.” 

As lie spoke the lady in question joined the group; her age might 
be eight or nine and-twenty; she was tall, and decidedly handsome, 
though her features were too large; she had magnificent black eyes, 
and very white teeth, which prevented the width of her mouth from 
interfering with her pretensions to beauty ; her complexion was brill- 
iant in the extreme, nature having bestowed on her a clear brown 
skin, which withstood the combined efiects ot exposure to sun and 
wind, and softened the high color induced by the boisterous nature 
of her ladyship’s favorite pursuits; — but il her personal irifts were 
striking, the style ot codiime she saw fit to adopt rendered her still 
more remarkable. As it will be necessary to describe her dress mi- 
nutely in order to convey any idea of her appearance, we throw our- 
selves on the mercy ot our lady readers, and heg them to pardon 
all errors ot description, seeing that mantua-makiug is a science in 
wLich we have never graduated, and ot which our knowledge is 
derived solely from oral traditions picked up during desultory con- 
versations among our female fiiends, usually held (il our memory 
fail US not) on their way home from church. 

Her dress consisted, then, of a gown ot exceedingly rich white 
silk, made half high in the body, and remarkably full in the skirt, 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


151 


over which she wore a polka of bright scarlet .cachemire, lined and 
trimmed with white sdk, and adorneii with a double row of the hunt 
buttons. Her head was attired in a Spanish hat of black velvet, 
while a single white leather, secured by a valuable diamond clasp, 
was allowed to droop over the brim, and mingle with the rich masses 
of her raven hair, which was picturesquely arranged in a complica- 
tion of braids and ringlets. She leaned on the aim of a gentleman 
double her age, whose good-humored heav}’ lace afforded a marked 
contrast to the ever- varying expression that lit the animated features 
of lier who was, in every sense of the word, his better half. Leices- 
ter’s description liati but slightly enhanced the vigor of her mode 
of salutation, for as she reached the spot where he stood, she clap- 
ped him on tne shoulder with a small white gloved hand, exclaim- 
ing in a deep but not unmusical voice; 

“ Bravo, Charley! run you to earth at last, you see. Where have 
you hidden yourseU all this age? JNow, Goody,” she continued, turn- 
ing to her husband, ” you may go. Charley Leicester will lake care 
of me. Don’t lose your temper at whist, don’t drink too much 
champagne, and mind you’re lorthcoming when 1 want you.” 

” There’s a life to lead,” returned her spouse, appealing to Leices- 
ter. ” Did you ever see such a tyrant?” 

‘‘Be off, Goody, and don’t talk nonsense,” was his lady-wuTe’s 
rejoinder. 

‘‘ How is it we never see you at the manor-house now?” began 
the master of that establishment in a hospitable tone of voice, but 
his lady cut him short in his speech by exclaiming! 

‘‘ Why? because he found you such a bore he could not stand 
you any longer; nobody can, except me, and even iny powers of en- 
duiance are limited; so,” she continued, taking him by the shoulder 
and turning him round, ‘‘right about face— heads up— marcUl 
Voila,’' she added, turning to Leicester, ” he's famously uuder com- 
mand, isn’t he, Cliarle}'? all my good breaking in— he was as ob- 
St nate as a mule before 1 married him, nobody could do anything 
with him. lie’s in snlendid condition, too, for a man of sixt3\ I’ll 
back him to walk, ride, bunt, shoot, or play at billiards with any 
man of his age and weight in the three kingfioms. I’ve been obliged 
to dock his corn, though; there was seldom a day that he didn’t 
finish his second bottle of port. He only drinks one now; but 1 sa}", 
Charley, about this election of Governor Grant’s, how is lie going 
the pace? You must tell me all about it; I’ve been m Haris for the 
last two montlis, and I'm quite iu the dark.” 

” ’Pou my word, 1 take so little intciest in the matter that 1 can 
scar cel}’ enlighten you, Lady Mary,” returned Leicester, glancing 
uneasily at Miss Peyton, who w'as talking wuth much appaient 
2yressetnent to Miss Singleton, though her quick ears drank in ever}’ 
word spoken by the others. 

” Who’s that girl?” lesumed Lady Mary, low’ering her voice a 
little {very little) as she perceived the direction of Leicester's glance, 
” Miss Peyton, eli?” she continued. ” You shall iutroduce me; 
but first tell me who’s that man by her side, like an old picture.” 

“Mr. Arundel,” W’as the reply; “tutor to poor '}^ouug Desbor- 
011 gh. ” 

“ lie's too good for the w’ort?,” returned Jack: “he’s too near 


m 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


thorouffh-bred to take to collar and keep liis traces tight with such 
an uphill pull as that must be. isay, Charley,” she continued in 
a half whispf^r, ‘‘ he’s handsomer than you are; if you don’t mind 
your play, he’ll bowl you out, and win with the favorite. — there, it’s no 
use looking sulky or getting up the steam with me,” she added, as 
Leicester uttered an exclamation of annoyance: “1 can see it all 
with half an eye; you’re as thoroughly what Goody calls ‘ spongy* 
as a man need to be; but now, Charle}", don’t get putting your foot 
in it, you know; is it all right with the tin? that’s the main 
question.” 

” Ask me to dance, for pity’s sake, and let me get out of that 
creature’s way,” murmured Laura Peyton to Lewis; “ 1 never had 
a taste for seeing monsters.” 

Lewis smiled, and offered lier his arm. At the same moment De 
Grandeville, gaudily ornate, marched up and requested the honor of 
.Miss Peyton’s hand for the set then forming. 

” I am engaged to Mr. Arundel lor the next quadrille,” returned 
Miss Peyton. 

‘‘ For the following one then— ar?” 

” I shall have much pleasure,” was the reply; ” in the meantime 
allows me to introduce you to my friend Miss Singleton, who is at 
present without a parlner.”^ 

De Grandeville, charmed to have the opportunity of obliging Miss 
Peyton, acted on the hint, and the two couples hastened to take their 
places in the quadrille then forming, Leicester’s volatile companion 
still continued chattering, heedless of his evident annoyance, until 
she had worried him into a state of mind bordering on distraction, 
when, some fresh fancy seizing her, she fastened herself on to a new 
victim and left him to his meditations;— these were by no means of 
an agreeable character; and after wandering listlessly through the 
suite of rooms, and watching Laura Peyton as during the intervals 
of the dance she talked and laughed with De Grandeville (an occu- 
palion which did not tend greatly to raise Leicester’s spirits or soot lie 
Ills ruffled temper), he strolled into a card room tenanted only by 
lour elderly gentlemen immersed in a rubber ot whist; and, flinging 
himself on a vacant sofa in a remote coiner of the apartment, gave 
himself up to gloomy retrospection. 

He had not remained theie long when Lewis entered and glanced 
round as if in search ol some one; then approaching Leicester, he 
began : 

‘‘ You’ve not seen Walter lately, have you? Your amusing 
friend, Lady Mary Goodwood ” Confound the jade,” muttered 
Leicester, sotto wee), ” introduced herselt to me just now, and hav- 
ing captivated Walter by her bright smile and scarlet jacket, carried 
him off, to tease me, 1 believe, and 1 can’t tell what she has done 
with him; — but,” he continued, for the first time observing his com- 
panion’s dejected manners and appearance, ” is anything the matter 
—you’re not ill, 1 hope?” 

‘ i wish 1 w'as,” was the unexpected repl ” ill — dead— anytliing 

rather than the miserable fool 1 am—” 

” Wiiy, what has occuired?” asked Lewis, anxiously. ” Can 1 
be of any use?” 

“No, it’s past mending,” returned Leicester, in an accent ol deep* 


LEWIS ARUXDEL. 


153 


-'^ejection. He paused, then turning to Lewis, he resiimecl almost 
fiercely: “ The tale is soon told it you want to hear it. 1 met that 
^^irl—Laura Peylon, 1 mean^in town about a year ano. In fact — 
for my aftnirs aie no secret—every fool knows that I’m a beggar, 
or thereabouts — 1 was introduced to her because she was a great 
heiress, and dangled after her through the whole of a London sea- 
son, for the sake of her three per cents. Well, last autumn 1 met 
her again down in Scotland; we were staying together for three 
week s"^ in the same house; of course we saw a good deal of each 
other, and I soon toun<l 1 liked her better for herself than 1 had 
ever done for her money; but somehow, as soon as this feeling arose, 
1 lost all nerve, and could not get on a hit ; the idea of the meanness 
of mairying a woman for the sake of her fortune haunted me day 
and night, and the more 1 cared for her the less was I able to sliow 
it. Well, my Cousin Annie perceived whal was going on, it seems, 
and without saying a word to me of her intention, struck up a 
friendship with Laura, and invited her hers; and somehow — the 
thing’s very absurd in a man like myself, who has seeu everylhiug 
and done everything, and found out what humbug it all is— but the 
fact of the midter is, that I’m just as foolishly anci romantically and 
deeply in love with that girl as any raw boy of seventeen could be; 
and 1 don’t believe she cares one sou about me in return; she 
tliinks, as she has a good right to do, that I’m hunting her for her 
money like tlie rest of them 1 dare say; and — stop a minute,” he 
conlinued, seeing Lewis was about to speak — you have not heard 
the worst yet; because all I’ve told you was not enough, that con- 
ceited ass, De Grandeville, must needs come and consult me this 
morning as to whether Miss Peyton was worthy of being honored 
with his hand; hinting pretty plainly that he did not anticipate 
much diftjculty on the lady’s part; and, by Jove, from the way in 
which she is going on with him this evening, 1 believe that for once 
he wasn’t lying; then that mad-headed Mary Goodwood coming 
and bothering with her confounded ‘ Charley ’ this, and ‘ Charley ’ 
that, and her absurd plan of monopolizing one — of course she means 
no harm; she has known me from a boy, and it’s her way; besides, 
she really is attached to old Goodwood; — but how is Laura Peyton 
to know all that?” 

” Why, rouse up; and go and tell her yourself, to be sure,” re- 
plied Lewis. 

” Ko, not 1,” returned Leicester, moodily; ” I’ll have no more 
trouble about it. I’ll leave this liouse to-morrow morning, and be 
off to Baden, or ISaples, or Timhuctoo, or some place where there 
are ifO women, if such a paradise exists — and she may marry De 
Grandeville or whom she pleases for me. You see, it wmuld be 
different it she cared at all for me, but to worry one’s heart out 
about a giil who does not even like one — ” 

''Halt Idef' interrupted Lewis; “lookers on see much of the 
game; and if i know anyth iug of woman’s nature—” he paused and 
hit his lip as the recollection of Gretchen crossed his mind— “ de- 
p)end upon it, Miss^ Peylon is not as indifferent to you as you im- 
agine.” 

“Did you see how coldly she received me tonight?” urged 
Jjticester. 


154 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


“ Yes; and her doing so only confiimed my i>revioU& opinion; 
that chattering Miss Singleton had annoyed her by bidding me sum- 
mon you in ^tiss Peyton’s name; hut the veiy tact ot her annoyance 
showd consciousness; had shebeen indilTerent to you she would not, 
have cared. Then her irritation at Lady Mary's familiarity proves 
the same thing,’' 

“ You really think so?” returned Leicester, brightening up. 
” My dear fellow, 3 "ou’ve quite put new life into me. It’s very odd 
now, 1 never sapvr it in that light before. What would you have 
me do, then?” 

” If, as you say, you really and truly love her,” returned Lewis, 
gravel.v, ” lay aside — excuse my plain speaking— lay aside your 
fashionable airs, which disguise your true nature, and tell her of 
your affection 'in a simple and manly wajL and if she is the girl I 
take her to be, your trouble will not be thrown away.” Bo saying, 
he rose and quilted the room, leaving Leicester to reflect on his ad- 
vice. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

CONTAINS A MYSTERIOUS INCIDENT, AND ^SHOWS HOW THE COURSE 
OF TRUE LOVE NEVER DOES RUN SMOOTH. 

As Lewis, after the conversation detailed in the last chapter, was 
prosecuting his search for Walter through the various apaitments, 
he encountered Annie Grant, w^ho, having escaped the vigilance of 
]\ri->s Livingstone, was enjoying, in company with a young lady 
friend, (he dangerous luxury of standing by an open window. The 
moment she perceived Lewis she advanced toward him and began: 

” May 1 detain you one moment, Pdr. Arundel? Can you ted me 
anything of my Cousin Charles? Pm afraid he must be ill, and I 
wished him to exert himself so particularly to-night.” 

‘‘ He is not ill,” returned Lewis; ‘‘ 1 left him not two minutes 
since in the card-room.” 

‘‘In the card-room?” repeated Annie, in a tone of anno^^ance; 
” what can he be doing there? Is he playing w hist?” 

” No,” was the reply; ‘‘ he -did not appear in a humor to enjoy 
the dancing, anti hail gone there for the sake of quiet.” 

” A fit of his incorrigible idleness, 1 suppose,” remarked Annie, 
pettishly; ‘‘ really it’s too provoking: it must seem so odd, his ab- 
senting himself on such an occasion as this. Would you mind the 
trouble of returning, and telling him 1 want to speak to hiqi par- 
ticularly, and that he will find me here?” 

” 1 shall he most happy; it’s no trouble,” began Lewis. He 
paused, and then added in a lower tone, ” Perhaps you scarcely do 
Mr. Leicester justice in attributing his absence to a fit of indolence; 
1 fancied, from his manner, something had occurred to annoy him.”' 

” Something to annoy him!” exclaimed Annie, starting and turn- 
ing pale as a disagreeable possibility suddenly occurred to her. 
** Surely he has not? — she never can have — I'* then seeing Lewis’s 
glance fixed on her with a look of peculiar intelligence, she paused 
abruptl}", and a most becoming blush overspread her features. Lewis 
pitied her confusion, and hastened to relieve it by observing: 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


155 


“ If 1 have ventuied to guess the direction of your tlioughts 
sojnewhat too boldly. Miss Grant, you must pardon me, and believe 
that did 1 not think 1 might thereby in some slight degree repay the 
kindness Mr. Leicester has invariably shown me, 1 would not have 
allowed you to perceive it. If,” he added, in a lower tone, “ you 
will permit me to advise j^ou, 1 believe you could most etiectually 
serve your cousin’s interests by explaining to* Miss Peyton, at the 
earliest opportunity, the nature of the friendship which exists be- 
tween Lady Mary Goodwood and Mr. Leicester, mentioning at the 
same time the fact that they have known each other from child- 
hood.” 

” That’s the difficulty, is it?” rejoined Annie. ‘‘Oh! 1 can set 
that right in five minutes;— thank you very much, Mr. Arundel; 
liow very kind you are; but,” she added with an arch look, ” you 
are most alarmingly clever; 1 shall become quite afraid of 3'ou;” 
then turning to her companion, she added, ” Now, Lucy, dear, you 
will catch your death of cold standing at that window. \ou will 
send Charles Leicester, then, IVJLr. Arundel?” So saying she linked 
her arm in that of her friend, and the two girls left tlie room. 

‘‘ Leicester’s a lucky dog to have such a zealous advocate in that 
sweet cousin of his,’' thought Lewis, as he retraced his steps to- 
w’ard the card -room. ‘‘ She is a great deal too good for that brute, 
Lord Bellefield; she had better have chosen Charles, if she must 
marry either brother, though he is scarcely her equal in mind or 
force of character, and without that 1 don’t believe married life can 
ever progress as it should do.” On reaching the card-room he 
found it only tenanted b}" the whist- players; and rightly imagining 
that his advice had so tar restored Leicester’s spirits as to induce 
him again to return to the ball-room, he resumed his search for 
TValter, and at length discovered him in the ice-room, where, under 
the auspices of a pretty, interesting-looking girl, the daughter of 
one of the tenantry, had in on the occasion to assist the female 
servants, he was regaling himself with unlimited cakes. 

AVTiile Lewis was gently insinuating the possibility of his having 
had enough, tw’o or three men, among whom was Lord Bellefield, 
lounged into the room and began eating ices at a table opposite that 
at winch Lewis and Walter were stationed. One of the party, who 
i was unacquainted with Lewis, apparently struck by his appearance, 
addressed Lord Bellefield in an undertone, evidently inquiring who 
the young tutor might be; the answer, though spoken in a low 
voice, was (whether designedly or not we will not say) perfectly 
audible to the person to whom it related. 

” That? oh, some poor devil old Grant has picked up cheap as a 
sort ot dry-nurse to his pet idiot; a kind of mf\\iihonne, as the French 
term it; a species of upper servant, half valet, half tutoi. You need 
not notice him.” 

There was a degree of littleness in this speech which completely 
robbed it of its sting. It was such a mean attempt at an insult that 
Lewis thought it would be letting himself down even to feel angry 
about it; and merely allowing, his lip to curl sliglitly wiih a con- 
temptuous smile, he folded his arms and p itiently awaited the con- 
clusiouof Walter’s repast. After Lord Bellefield and his fiieuds had 
devoured as many ices as seemed good to them, the) prepared to 


15G 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


leave tbe room, and just as they passed the spot where Lewis stood. 
Lord Bellelield, in drawing out his handkerchief, accidentally 
dropped a glove. Not perceiving his loss he was stdl walking on, 
when Lewis, after a moment’s hesitation, resolved to adhere to his 
determination of treating Lord Bellefield as he would any other man 
his superior in rank, and i^erhaps inwardly rejoiced at the oppor- 
tunil}' of returning good for evil, or at "least civility for insult, 
stooped and picked up the glove, then advancing a step or two, he 
presented it to its owner, saying: 

“Excuse my interrupting your lordship, but you have dropped 
your glove.” 

Now it so happened that the moment before Lewis had removed 
his own glove to render some assistance to Walter, and had not 
replaced it wdien he extended his hatid to Lord Bellefield, who, with- 
out making any reply, signed to his French valet, then assisting in 
the champagne department, and when he approached, said: 

“ Tenez, Antoine! take the glove from this gentleman, and bring 
me a clean pair.’' 

The insolence of his look and the attecled drawl in which he 
spoke rendered his meaning so unmistakable that, after a slight at- 
tempt to repress the inclination, one of his companions burst into a 
laugh, while the other, who had sufRcient good feeling to be dis- 
gusted at such an unprovoked insult, turned on his heel and w'alked 
away. Lewis stood lor a moment as if stunned; then, flushing 
crimson, he actually quivered with suppressed anger; still it was 
evident that he was striving to master his passion, and apparently 
he was in a great measure successful, for when he spoke it w’as in a 
low, calm voice. 

“ Am 1 to understand,” he said, “ that your lordship, considering 
this glove polluted by the accident of my having touched it, will 
never wear it again?” 

“ Ya— as,” was the reply; “you may very safely come to that 
conclusion without airy fear of misinterpreting my intentions.” 

“In tliut case,” continued Lewis, in the same low, clear voice, 
though his eyes, which were fixed on Lord JJellefield’s, actually 
glowed with the intensity i>f his emotion, “ 1 will crave your per- 
mission to retain it as a memorial of this evening, lour lordship 
will observe it is a right-hand glow. 1 may, on some future occa- 
sion, have the pleasuie of calling your attention to the care with 
which 1 have preserved the relic.” 

So saying, he bowed coldly, and still holding the glove with a 
vise-like grasp, as though he feared to have it wrested from him, 
he turned away without waiting a reply. 

“ What on earth does the fellow want with that glove?” inquirerl 
jjord Bellcfield’s companion, who, not being a particularly intel- 
lectual young gentleman, had been greatly mystified by the whole 
proceeding. “ And what in the world is the matter with you?” he 
added, observing for the first time that his friend was looking 
strangely pale and shuddering slightly. 

“ Eh— -come along— we’re standing in a confounded draught, and 
I’ve never rightly recovered that ague 1 picked up at Ancona,” was 
the leply; and, taking his companion’s arm, Lord Bellefield hastily 
left the room. 


LEWIS AEUNDEL. 


157 


So engrossed bad Lewis been with bis own share of The transact 
tion that be liad not observed the breathless inlerest with which the 
whole scene Imd been watclied by the i^irl before alluded to. She 
now approached him under the excuse of oftering some cakes; and, 
as lie somewhat impatiently refused them, said, in a hurried whisjier: 

“ 1 beg your pardon, sir, but what is it you intend to do wdlh that 
glove?’’ 

Sur{-iised alike at the question and the quarter from whence it 
proceeded, Lewis looked at the girl more attentive)}' than he hail yet 
done. She was above the middle height, and of a singularly grace- 
ful figure; her features were characterized by a degree of refinement 
and intelligence not usually found among persons of her class; she 
was very pale; and though she endeavored to repress all outward 
signs of emotion, he coulil jieroeive she was fearfully agitated. 

""“Do with the glove!” returned Lewis; “ what makes you ask 
Buchan odd question?” 

“ You can not deceive me, sir,” she replied in the same eager 
whisper. “ 1 witnessed all that passed between you and— that gen- 
tleman, just now.” 

“ And what is it you fear?” asked Lewis. 

“ That you are going to challenge him to fight a duel to-moirow 
morning — and — perhaps mean to wear that glove on the hand you 
shoot him with.” 

As she uttered these last words a strange expression flitted across 
Lewis’s face; it had passed, liow’ever, ere he replied: 

“ Y'ou are mistaken. As long as 1 remain under this roof I shall 
avoid any collision with (hat gentleman. I'lay, more, should he re- 
peat Ids insult (though I scarcely think he will), 1 shall not attempt 
to resect it; —so,” lie added, with a smile, “ as I am living here, 1 
think he is tolerably safe from me. Stay,” he added, as, after 
glancing anxiously at his features, as (hough she strove to read his 
very soul, she was about to turn away, satisfied that he was not 
attempting to deceive her, “ stay; do not mention what you have 
observed among the servants; and here is something to buy you 
some new ribbon for your cap.” 

“ 1 will not take your money, sir,” she replied, somewhat haugh- 
tily, “ but your secret is as safe with me as in the grave.” Then 
taking Walter’s plate, which was by this lime empty, she crossed ^ 

the room and mingled with the other servants.” 

It was later in the evening, much dancing had been accomplished, 
many civil speeches and some rude ones made, mild flirtatious be- 
gun to assume a serious character, and one or two aggravated cases 
appeared likely to end in business. The hearts ot matcli making 
mammas beat high with hope, marriageable daughters were looking 
up, and eligible young men, apparently bent on becoming tremen- 
dous sacrifices, were evidently to be had cheap. The real live duke 
was in unusually high spirits; he had hitherto been mercifully pre- 
served from dangerous young lad’es, and had passed a very pleasant 
evening; Lady Mary Goodwood, who was equal to a duke or any 
other emergency, had been introduced to him, and had taken upon 
lierselt the task of entertaining him; and his grace being slightly 
acquainted with Mr. Goodwood, and foitified by an unshakable 
faith in that gentleman’s power of longevity, had yielded himself 


15S 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


unresistingly to tlie fascinations ot of the fair Amazon, and allowed 
Limselt to be amused wilh the most amiable condescension. Charles 
Leicester, in some degree re-assured by his conversation with Lewis, 
returned to the dancing-room, and secured i\liss Peyton for a waltz; 
but his success did not tend greatly to improve his position, as the 
young lady continueil strangely sileni, or onl}^ opened her mouth to 
say cutting thing'^. The last polka before supper she danced with 
Le Grandeville; on tliat gentleman’s arm she entered the room in 
which the supper was laid out, and he it was, who, seated by her 
side during the meal, forestalled her every wish with the most lover- 
like devotion. Lord Bellefield, after the rencontre with Lewis, had 
consoled himself by taking possession of Annie, whose side he never 
quitted for a moment, and whom he thereby prevented from holding 
any private communications with her friend, Miss Peyton, her* ac- 
quaintance with the domestic economy oj: her uncle’s family lead- 
ing her to divine that his brother would be about the last person to 
whom Charles Leicester would wish Ids hopes and tears confided. 

Seeing that things thus continued steadily to “ improve for the 
W'orse,” and that the tide which Shakespeare discovered in the 
affairs of men appeared to have set dead against him, the imfortu 
nate “ Charley,” liaving, in a spirit of selt-mortificatiou, repudiated 
supper, and rejected ofers of champagne with the virulence of a 
Ted-hot teetotaler, betook himself to the solitude of the music-room 
in a state of mind bordering on disli action, which lever ot the soul 
Lady Maiy Goodwood Iiad not tended to allay by remarking with 
a significant glance toward Miss Peyton and De Grandeville: 

” 1 say, Charley, cast your CN^e up the cmurse a minute; the heavy 
weight’s making play wdth the tavorith at a killing pace; I’d bet 
long odds he pops, and she says ‘ Done ’ before the meeting is over; 
so it that don’t suit your book, Charley, my hoy, the sooner you 
hedge on the double event the better.” * 

The music-room at Broadhurst was a spacious apartment, wdth a 
coved ceiling and deep bay-windows, hung with rich crimson 
-damask curtains, and containing ottomans ot tbe same mateiial in 
the recesses. On one of these Leicester flung himself, and, half 
hidden by the voluminous folds of the drapery, sketched out a 
gloom}^ future, in which he depicted himself quarreling with De 
Grandeville, shooting him in a consequent duel, and residing ever 
after in the least desirable part of the backw^oods of America, a 
prey to remorse, without cigars, and cut off from kid gloves and 
pale ale in the flower ot his youth. Occupied wdth these dreary 
thoughts, he scarcely noticed the entrance of various seceders from 
the supper- table, nor w^as it until the sound of the pianoforte aroused 
his attention that he perceived the room to be tenanted by some 
twenty or thirty people scattered in small coteries throughout the 
apartment. At the moment when he became alive to external im- 
pressions, Miss Singleton, having secured a mild young man who 
kuew^ not life, and believed in her to the fullest extent wilh a touch- 
ing simplicity, to turn over the music, was about to favor the com- 
pany wilh a song. Before this interesting performance could com 
mence. however, sundry preliminary airangemenls, analogous to the 
nautical ceremony of “ clearing tor action,” appeared indispensable; 
first, a necessity existed for taking off her gloves, wdiich was not 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


15D 


arcomplished without much rounding of arms, display of rings, 
and rattling of bracelets, one of which, in particular, would catch 
in everything, and was so incorrigible that it was forced to be un- 
clasped in disgrace, and committed to the custody of the mild young 
man, who blushed at it and held it as if it'wcre alive. Then Miss 
Singleton drew up her head, elongated h^^r neck to a girafie-like ex- 
tent, raised her eyes, simpered, cast them down again, glanced out 
of their corners at the “ mihl one,” till he trembled in his poJij^hed 
boots and jingled the wicked bracelet like a baby’s rattle, in the 
excess of his agitation, and finally commenced her song by an ener- 
getic appeal to her mother (who had been dead and buried for the 
last fifteen years) to “ wake her early ” on the ensuing first of May. 
Just as she was assuring the company that “ she had been wild 
and w^ay ward,, but she was not wayward now,” a couple entered 
the room, and apparently wishing not to disturb the me'oUy, seated 
themselves on a sofa in a retired corner, which chanced to be nearly 
opposite to the recess of which Leicester had taken possession; thus, 
all hough the whole length of the music-mom intervened, he could 
(himself. unseen) catch occasional glimpses of this sofa as tlie ever- 
changing groups of loungers formed and dispersed thenv'elves. 

Tile occupants of tlie sofa were Miss Peyton and De Grrandeville; 
and could Charles Leicester have overhearxl the follo\7ing conversa- 
tion, 'the passive annoyance with which he observed the codoquy 
might have given place (o a more active sentiment. 

” Ar — really,” remarked De Grandeville, ‘‘that is a very— ar — 
touching, pathetic song— ” 

‘‘ Munlercd,” observed Miss Peyton, quietly, finishing his sen- 
tence for him. 

” Ar— eh— yes, of course, 1 M'as going to — ar— that is, your ex- 
quisite taste has— ar — in fact — ar— beyond a doubt the w'oman is 
committing murder.” 

” Kecollect the ‘ woman,’ as you are pleased to call her, is my 
particular friend, Mr. De Grandeville,” returned his companion, 
with a slight degree of hauteur in her tone. 

” Ar — yes, of course, that speaks volumes in her favor,’' w-as the 
rejoinder; “ and although it is not every one who is gifted with the 
— — tab nt of vocalization, yet the estimable qualities wdiich one 
seeks in the — ar— endearing relation of friendship may be found — 
ar— that is, may exist — ar — ” 

‘‘ Wiiat did you think of the champagne at supper?” interrupted 
Miss Peyton abruptly. 

“ Renll}^ — ar— ’pon my word, I did udt particularly notice it, 1 
w^as — ar — so agreeably situated that 1 could not devote much atten- 
tion to the— ar— commissariat departme^nt.” 

“-Surely it w’as unusuallj^ strong,” persisted Laura, _ 

‘ Ar — yes, of course you are right; it is no doubt owing to its- 
agreeably exhilarating qualities that it is so universally popular with 
the fair sex. Were I— ar— so fortunate as to be— ar— a married 
man. i should always have champagne at my table.” 

“ What a temptation,” returnefl Miss Peyton, smiling ironically;. 
“ your wife will he an enviahle wmman, it yc u mean to indulge her 
in such luxuries.” 

” It delights ujc to hear you say so,” exclaimed De Grandeville; 


160 


LEWIS ARUXDEL. 




• 


eagerly; ** if siicli is your opinion, 1 am indeed a fortunate man. I 
bad not intended,” lie conliiuied in a lovN^er tone, ” to speak to you 
at this early periotl of our acquaintance on the subject nearest to "my 
heart, but the — ar — very flattering encouragement — ” 

” Sir!” exclaimed Miss Peyton in a tone of indignant surprise. 

” —which you have deigned to bestow upon me,” continued Her 
Grandeville, not heeding the interruption, ” leads me to unfold my - 
intentions without further delay. 1 am now' arrived at an age when, 
in the prime of life, and with judgment so matured that I consider 
I may safely act in obedience to iis dictates without the risk of mak- 
ing any great mistake, it appears to me, and to those of my highly 
born anef influential fiicnds whom I have consulted on the subject, 
that 1 might greatly improve ray general position in society by a 
judicious matrimonial alliance. Kow, without being in the slighUsI 
degree actuated by— ar— anything approaching to a spirit of boast- 
ing, 1 may venture to say that in the selection of a partner for life I 
haVe a right to look — ar— high. Aly family may be traced bark be- 
yond the Xorman conquest, and the immense estates In our posses- 
sion — ar— my Cousin llildebrand holds them at prtsent — but m the 
event of anything happening to his seven -ar-^however, 1 need not 
now trouble 3 'ou with family details; suffice it to say that wx* are of 
ancient descent, enormous lauded proprietors, and that my own 
positkn in society is by no means an unimportant one. Isc^w, al- 
though j am aware that by birth you are scarce!}' — ar — that is — that 
^ the I’eyion family can not trace back their origin — ar — 1 have made 
up my mind to w’aive that point in consideration — ” 

‘‘Excuse me, sir,” interrupted Miss Peyton. “Doubtless your 
mature judgment has led you to discover many, in fact wme thou- 
sands oi good and weighty reasons w'hy you should oveilook the 
humble origin of the poor Peytons; but there is one point whicli 
appears to have escaped even your sagacity, namely, W’hether this 
unworthy descendant of an igiroble family desires the honor of such 
an alliance as you propose. That you may no longer be in doubt an 
the subject, allow me to thank you for the sacrifice you propose to 
make in my favor, and most unequivocally to decline it.” 

No one could be in De Grandeville’s company for ten minutes 
without perceiving that on the one subject of his ow'u importancp he 
was more or less mad; but w'ith this exception he wuis a clear-headed, 
quick sighted man, used to society, and accustometl to deal wdth the 
woiUi. Laura Peytun, in her indignation al the inflated style of the 
preamble of his discourse, had committed the indiscretion of refus- 
ing Ids hand before he bad distinctly oflered it. De Grandeville 
perceived the mistake, and hastened to avail himself of it by reply- 
ing. - 

“ Excuse me, Miss Peyton, but you jump rather hastily to conclu- 
sions; had you heard me to the end you might have learned that 
there were equally strong reasons wliy in my present position 1 dare 
not yield to the impulse of my feelings— for that 1 greatly admire 
and respect you 1 frankly ow'n. Should these reasons disappear 
under a change of circumstances, 1 shall hope to have the honor of 
again addressing you on this subject with a im^re favorable result — 
in the meantime, to assure you that 1 entertain no unfriendly recol- 
lections of Ibis in-tervievv, permit me the pleasure—” 


LEWIS AEUNDEL. 


161 


So saving, ere she was aware of his intention, he raised her hand 
to his iipa, bowed respecttiilly, and, lising, quitted the apartjnrnt. 
Hiss Peyton, equally surprised and provoked at the turn De 
Grandeville had given to the conversation remained for a minute 
or so pondering the matter, with her eyes 5xed on tl)e ground: as 
she raised them they encountered those of a geullemau who was 
passing down the room at the time. Charles Leicester (for lie it 
was) returned her gaze haughtily, and as their eyes met, a con- 
temptuous smile curled his lip, and, bowing coldly, he passed on 
without a word. Well might he despise her, for he bad witnessed 
the parting salutC; and not unnaturally^ deemetl her the affianced bride 
of Marmaduke de Grandeville. Ere he retired for the night his 
servant had received orders to pack up his clothes and to procure 
post-horses by eight o’clock on the tollowiog morning. Annie 
Grant, who, when the latest guests had departed, sought her friend 
Laura’s dressing-room to explain to her the old Iriendship which 
liad existed between her Cousin Charles and Lady Mary Goodwood, 
was equally surprised and disln ssed to find her communication re- 
ceived with a hysterical burst of tears. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

SUNSniNE AFTER SHOWERS. 

Annie Grant found her friend strangely uncommunicative on the 
subject of her fit of weeping; she declared that it was nothing— that 
she felt nervous and overtired, but that a good izight’s rest was all she 
required to set her to rights again; then kissing her affectionately, 
Laura, with much caressing, turned her out of the room. As sound 
sleep was the specific to which Hiss Peyton trusted feu the restora- 
tion of her health and spirits, it can scarcely be imagined that, after 
passing tour restless hours in a vain attempt to obtain the desired 
boon, she should have felt particularly refreshed. Weary both in mind 
and body, she was aroused from a dreamy^ half-sleeping, half-wak- 
ing, but wholly uncomfortable state into which she bad fallen, by 
tlie sun shining brightly into her room, ffhe beauty' of the morning, 
Ihougli a thick hoar frost lay upon the ground, banished all further 
desire for sleep, and commencing her toilet she resolved on a scheme 
which her acquaintance with the usual habits of the family led her 
to conceive feasible — namely, to possess herself of the third volume 
of a new novel in which she was considerably interested, and with 
that for a companion, to take a brisk walk in the clear morning an, 
and return ere any of the partv had made their appearance at the 
brenkfast-lable. Dressing hastily, she wrapped herself in a thick 
shawl, and tripped lightly down the staircase, only encountering in 
hei progress a drowsy house- maid, who stared at her with lack- 
luster eyes, as though she took her for a ghost. Refore she could 
carry her whole plan into execution, however, it was necessary that 
she should visit the library, in order to procure the I'olumc she 
wished to take with her. Opening the floor quickly', she had pro- 
ceeded halt-way across the room ere she perceived it was not un- 
lenauted. As she paused, uncertain whether or not to proceed^ 


1C2 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


Charles Leicester— for he it was, who, actiuo- on his resolution of 
the previous night, was writing a few lines to account for his abrupt 
tleparlure—rose from the table at which he had been sitting, and ad- 
vanced towanl her. lie was attired for a journey, and his pale 
features and the dark circles under his eyes gave token of a sleepless 
night. There was a restless energy in his tone and manner, as he 
addressed her, totally opposed to his usual listless indifference; and 
no one could be in his company a moment without perceiving that 
(to use a common, but forcible expression) something had come over 
him — that he was (al all events, for the present) a changed man. 

“ You are an early riser, JViiss Peyton,” he said; “ 1 did not ex- 
pect to have an opportunity of wishing you good-bye in person.” 

” 1 was not aware you intended leaving Broadhurst so soon,” re- 
turned Laura, feeling, she scarcely knew why, exceedingly uncom- 
fortable. ” Shall you return before the party breaks up?” 

” No. I shall go abroad directly, and endeavor to procure an at- 
tachesliip to one of the embassies; the Turkish, 1 think: I’ve never 
seen Constantinople.” 

” Surely you’ve formed this resolution somewhat abrupt 1}%” ob- 
served Miss Peyton; ‘‘it was only 3 "esteraay you agreed to escort 
your Cousin Annie and myself to ride over and sketch the ruins of 
Monktou Priory. 1 was tbiuking this morning, as soon as I saw the 
sunshine, what a charming canter we should have.” 

‘‘ 1 should be more sorry. Miss Peyton, to be forced to break so 
agreeable an engagement did 1 not feel certain you will have no diffi- 
culty in supplying my place on the occasion,” returned Leicester, 
laying a marked em])hasis on the pronoun. ” 1 must now wish you 
good-morning,” he continued; then, bowing coldly, betook uphis 
hat, and turned to leave the room. 

Miss Peyton allovred him to reach the door ere she could make up 
her mind what course to pursue; then, coloring brightly, she ex- 
claimed, ” Stay one moment, Mr. Leicester;” as he paused, and, 
closing the door, which he had partially opened, turned toward her, 
she continued: ” 1 will not affect to misunderstand 3 ^our allusion, 
and although the subject is one on which 1 should not willingly 
have entered, 1 consider it due lo myself not to suffer you to depart 
under a mistake, into wdiich 1 should have ihought you knew me 
too well to have fallen.” 

” Mistake!” repeated Leicester eagerly, ” is it possible that 1 can 
be mistaken? Are you not then engaged to Mr. De UrandevilleV” 

‘‘ Most aspuredl}^ 1 am not,” rehirned Miss Peyton, “ nor, unless 
I very greatly alter my opinion of that gentleman, shall 1 ever be 
so. I did think Mr. Leicester would have given me credit for better 
taste than to have supposed such a thing possible, but Lsce 1 was 
mistaken; and now,’' she added, “having found the book 1 came 
to seek, 1 must wish you good morning, and — a pleasant journey tO' 
Constantinople.” 

“Slay, Miss Peyton,” exclaimed Leicester, for once really ex- 
cited. “ YT>u have said too much, or too little; — pardf n me,” be 
continued. “ J will not detain you five minutes, but speak 1 must.” 

Taking her hand, he led her to a seat, and resumed: 

“ 1 am placed in a most painful and difficult position, but the 


LEWIS AEUNDEL. 


163 


Lest and most straightforward course 1 can pursue will be to tell 
jou, in as tew words as possible, the simple truth, and then leave 
you to decide upon my fate. The difficulty 1 have to encounter is 
this: you are an heiress; 1 a portionless younger brother, without a 
profession, and brought up in expensive and indolent habits; were 
1 then to tell you that 1 love you, and that the dearest wish of my 
heart is to call you mine, how^ can i expect you to believe that 1 am 
not actuated by mercenary motives? that 1 do indeed deeply, truly 
love yon, with an intensity ol which 1 scarcely could have believed 
my nature capable? When first 1 sought your society, 1 frankly 
own (and if the admission ruins my cause, 1 can not help it, for I 
will not attempt to deceive you) it w’as the report of your riches 
wffiich attracted me; I considered you lady-like and agreeable, and 
this being the case, 1 would willingly have done as 1 saw men of my 
acquaintance doing every day-married tor money; but, as 1 be- 
came intimate with you, and discovered the priceless treasures of 
your heart and mind, my views and feelings altered. 1 soon learned 
to love you for yourself alone, and then, for the first lime, wiien 1 
perceived that in marrying you I had e7erythiog to gain and noth- 
ing to offer in return, 1 became fully aw^are of the meanness of the 
act I contemplated — in fact, 1 saw the matter in its true light, and 
felt that to ask you to become my wife would be an insult rather 
than a compliment. Thus, the more' 1 grew to love you the less 1 
yeniured to show it, till at last, pride coming to my assistance*, 1 re- 
solved 10 tear myself away, and quitted Scotland abruptly, intend- 
ing never to renew our intimacy unless some unexpected stroke of 
fortune should enable me to do so on more equal terms. My Cousin 
Annie, hovvever, had, it seems, guessed my secret, and invited you 
liero, wuihout mentioning her intention to me till you had actually 
arrived. Had I acted consistently, 1 should have Irft this place a 
fortnight ago; but 1 had suffered so much during my absence, and 
the delight of again associating with 5 ^ou w^as so overpow^ering, that 
1 had not sufficient strength of will to carry out my determination; 
llius 1 continued day by day yielding myself to the fascination of 
your suciety, learning to love you more and more, and 3 ^et not dar- 
ing to tell you so, because 1 telt the impossibility of proving — even 
now it seems absurd to say — my disinteiestedness, and that 1 loved 
3 mu for yourself alone. 8uch had been lor some days my state of 
feeling, wiien yesterday 1 was nearly driven distracted b}" that man, 
De Grandeville, actually selecting me as his confidant, and consult- 
ing me, of all people in the world, as to the advisabilit.v ot making 
you an offer of marriage, hinting that he had reason to believe such 
n proposal would be favorably received by you.” 

” Insolent!” exclaimed Miss Peyton, raising her eyes for the first 
time during Leicester’s address, and looking him full in the face; 
“ so far from encouraging him 1 have never spoken to him, save to 
turn his pompous speeches into ridicule, since 1 was first introduced 
to him.” 

*' So f would fain have taught myself to believe yesterday,” re- 
sumed Leicester; “ but the coldness ot your manner tow^ard me, 
and the marked attention you allowed him to pay you during the 
evening, tortured me with doubts; and when, after an animated 
<^onversation in the music-room, 1 saw' him raise your hand to hia 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


1G4: 


lips, 1 imagiuecl he had put his design into execution, and was an 
accepted siiilor.” 

“ A rejecied one would have been nearer the mark,” murmured 
Miss Peyton. 

” Utterly miserable,” continued Leicester, ” at the idea ot having 
irrevocably lost you— provoked that you should have accepted a 
man so completely your interior in mind, and, indeed, in every 
particular, I ordered post-horses before 1 retired for the night, and, 
but for this accidental meeting, should have been already on my 
road to London. And now,’* he continued, with passionate earnest- 
ness, “it is for you to decide whether my future life is to be happy 
or miserable. If truth has any power ot revealing itself you will 
believe that 1 love you truly, tenderly, for yourself alone; and you 
will decide whether such an affection is calculated to insure your 
happiness; but if you are unable to credit my sincerity, onl^'* say 
the wurd and I leave you forever.” 

ceased, and, clmching his hands, in the excess ot bis emo- 
tion, till the nails appeared to grow into the flesh, stood before her, 
pale and agitated, like a criminal awailiug the sentence which shall 
send him L^rth a free man or consign liim toatelou’s grave. After 
waiching her anxiously for a few moments, during which she re- 
mained Jv’itliout speaking, her head averted, and her features con- 
cealed by her close straw bonnet, lie resumed, “ 1 see it is in vain to 
wait; your silence tells me that 1 have nothing to hope— tool that 
1 was ever to deem it could beothcrwLel Farewell, Laura; may 
you be as happy as 1 would have striven to render you.” 

He turned, and his hand was again on the lock of the door, when, 
a low, sweet voice, every accent ot which thrilled through his very 
soul, mill mured: 

“ Mr. Leicester— Charles — do not go — you must not leave me.” 

And accordingly he did not go, but came hack instant]3% like an 
amiable, obedient young man as he was, and received the reward of 
rcerit by learning from the lips of her he loved that she was not 
only convinced ot the sincerity of the affection he had bestowed on 
her, but prized the gift so highly that she felt obliged to return it, 
which statement sounded very like a contradiction, but was nothing 
of the kind. Ihen followed a bright happy half hour, one of those 
little bits of unmitigated sunshine which gleam, once or twice in a 
life-time, to thaw the ice that tears which have never found vent 
form more or less thickly around the heart of each of us; and ere 
it w’as over, Laura Peyton stood pledged to become the wife ot 
Charley Leicester, who dis ordered the post-horses, and postponed 
his journey to Constantinople ad infinitum. Several droll little 
scenes occuried later on that morning between various members ot 
the party assembled at Broadhurst. In the first place, Annie Grant, 
who — completely tired oui, and greatly concerned at the mysterious 
impediments w'hich obstructed the course of her Cousin Charles’s 
love affair, had sought her pillow with a firm conviction she should 
never close her eyes all night— tell asleep immediately, and woke 
soon after nine o’clock on the following morning, under the impres- 
sion that she had just gone to bed. While she was dressing slie 
revolved in her anxious mind bar cousin’s difliculties, uud came to 
the following conclusions: nrst, that for sundry reasons connected 


LEWIS AEiiJlTDEL. 


1G5 


with his natural indolence, and a painf ul sense of his dependent 
position, Charley would never “ tell his love;’' secondly, that Laura, 
not divining these reasons, was piqued and hurt at his prolonged 
silence; and thirdly, that it behooved her (Annie) to remove these 
stumbling-blocks by a little judicious interference. Accordingly, 
when she had finished her toilet, and giving a last parting glance at, 
her pretty lace and graceful figure in the ciieval glass in her dress- 
ing-room, bad — well, 1 don’t know that we’ve any business to pry 
into her thoughts, but by the bright half-smile, half-blush, which 
resulted from the inspection, it may be concluded they were of an 
agreeable nature. When she had peiformed this litile unconscious 
act of homage to her own beauty, she tripped off to her fiiend’s 
room, and found that young lady fastening a very dangerous little 
bow of ribbon around her neck, with a small turquois brooch, 
made in the shape ot a true lover’s knot. 

1 wonder why she should have selected it from some twenty 
others, on that morning in particular. 

“Idle girl!” exclaimed Annie, kissing her aftectionately, as if 
idleness were a highly commendable attribute, “ idle girll not 
dressed at ten o’clock, and I’ve been ready for the last five min- 
utes.” 

“ I’m very sorry, dear; but it you knew what pleasant dreams 
I’ve enjoyed you would not wish to have dispelled them,” returned 
Laura, demurely, though there was a fund of merriment gleaming 
in her dark eyes, which Annie, in her innocence, did not perceive. 
Feeling, however, that under the circumstances, her friend had no 
business to have been so very happy, even in her dreams, she an- 
swered somewhat pettishly: 

“ You have been more favored than 1 have been; I went to bed 
cross and worried, and fretted over all my troubles again in my 
dreams. Laura dear,” she continued, “ 1 want to say something to 
you if I thought you would not be angry with me; 1 wish you— but 
can’t you guess what I’m going to say?” 

Miss Peyton shook her pretty head, and confirmed tne conviction 
expressed by De Grandeville that her family was of modern date by 
repudiating any connection with the race of (Edipus. So poor, 
sensitive Annie was forced to clothe her meaning in plain and un- 
mistakable words, which she endeavored to do by resuming: 

“My Cousin Charles, dear Laura— you know we were brought 
up together as children, and J love him as a brother; he is so kmd- 
hearted and such a sw^eet temper; and— of course I am aw^are he 
makes himself rather ridiculous sometimes with his indoleuce ami 
affectation, but he has been so spoiled and flattered by tbe s. t he lives 
in— it is only manner — whenever he is really called upon to act you 
have no notion what good sense and right feeling he displays. Dear 
Laura, I can’t bear to see him so unhappy!” At the beginning of 
this speech, Miss Peyton colored slightly; as it proceeded her eyes 
sparkled, and any one less occupied with their own feelings than 
was Annie Grant might have observed that tears glistened in them; 
but at its conclusioQ Gie observed in her usual quiet tone. 

“ I don’t believe Mr. Leicester is unhappy.” 

“ All I you don't know him as well as I do,” returned Annie, her 
cheeks glowing and her eyes beaming with the interest she took in 


166 


LEWIS AKUisDEL. 


the subject, “ he was so 'wretched all yesterday eveniug; he ate no 
supper, and sat moping in corners, as uulike his natural happy self 
as possible.” 

“ Did YOU hear that he had ordered post-horses at eight o’clock 
this niorning? inquired Laura. 

“ IS'o! you don’t mean it!” exclaimed Annie, clasping her hands 
in di^'Hiay. ‘ Ohf I liope he is not gone!” 

" You may depend upon it he is,” rejoined Miss Pe3don. turning 
to the glass, avowedly to smooth her gloss}" hair, which did not in 
the slightest degiee require that process, but in reality to hide a 
smile. ” He must be on his way to town by this time, unless any- 
thing has occurred this morning to cause him to alter his deter- 
mination.” 

” That is impossible,” returned Annie, quickly; then adding, in 
a tone ot the deepest reproach, ‘‘Oh, Laura! how could you be so 
cruel as to let him go?” she burst into a flood ei tears. And Laura, 
that heartless young hyena ot iashionable lite, that savage specimen 
of the perfidious sex ot whom a poet sings; 

*' Woman, though so mild she seem, 

Will lake your heart and tantalize it, 

W’ere it made of Portland stone, 

She’d manage to macadamize it;” 

“What do you suppose she did on the occasion? Nothing wonder- 
ful, and yet the best thing she could, tor she wreathed her sott 
arms round Annie’s neck, and kissing away her tears, wliispeied, 
in a few simple, touching woids, the secret of her happ}" love. 

Now let us shake the kaleidoscope, and take a peep at another 
combination ot our dramatis personm at this particular phase of 
their destinies. Lord Lellefleld is breakfasting in his private sitting- 
room; a bright fire blazes on the hearth: close to it has been drawn 
a sofa, upon which, wrapped in a dressing-gow’u ot rich hrocatled 
silk, lounges the tenant ot tlie apartment; a breakfast-table stands 
by the sofa, on which are placed an empty coflee-ciip, a small flask 
of French brandy, and a liqueur glass, together with a plate f)f loasr, 
apparently scarcely touched, a cut-glass saucer, containing marma- 
lade, and a cigar-case. His lordship appears to be h}" no means in an 
amiable frame of mind. He had sat up the previous night some two 
liours after the ball was over, playing ecarte with certain intimntes 
of his own whom he had caused to be invited to Broadhiirst, during 
W"hich time he had contrived to lose between £200 and £300. Earlier 
in the day he had formed a canvassing engagement wUh General 
Grant for eleven o’clock on the following morning, which obliged 
him to rise sooner than was by any means agreeable to liis tastes or 
consonant with his usual habits; and, lastly, he expected an impor- 
tant letter, and the post was late. While he was pondering this 
agglomerate (to choose an euphonious word) ot small evils, the door 
opened, noiselessly, and Antoine, the French valet, carrying a well- 
brushed coal, as tenderly as if it had been a baby, stole on tiptoe 
across ‘he room. Lord Bcllefiehl, whose head was turned awa}" 
from the door, stretched out his hand, exclaiming impatiently, ‘‘ Well 
where are they?” 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 16T 

“ Milor. returned the astonished Frenchman, who, in his inter- 
est about the caat, had clean forgotten the letters. 

“ The letters, fool, where are they?” reiterated his lordship 
angrily. 

“ Mille pardons, milor ; but ven 1 did valk myself up z\e stair, 1 
am not avare dat zie letters had made zemselves to arrive,” rejoined 
Antoine, with a self-satisfied smile, as if he had done something 
clever. 

Did you ask?” returned his master, with a frown. 

“ Non pas precisement—1 did not exactly demand,” stammered 
Antoine, wiili (this time) a deprecatory smile. 

Lord Bellefield’s only reply was an oath; then, seeing the man re- 
mained, uncertain what to do, he added: “ Go down again directly,, 
idiot, and don't return again without my letters, unless — ” a men- 
acing gesture of his clinched fist supplied the blank, and the valet 
ijluitled the loom, muttering, witn a shrug, as he closed the door, 

” QuWls sold harbares ces Anglais ; but, parhleu, like all zie savage,, 
dey are made of gold — eh! bien^ c'esi egod — he shall pay me veil for 
him.” 

Lord Bellefield was not fated to enjoy the blessing of fieace that 
morning, for scarcely had his servant closed the door ere some one 
else tapped at it. ” Come in,” shouted the victimized peer, append- 
ing a wish concerning his visitor of wdiich the most charitable view* 
we can take is that he was desirous of offering him a warm recep- 
tion; however, this may be, Charles Leicester (for he it was to 
his lot his brother’s left-handed benediction had fallen) entered 
the room, his face reflecting the joy of his heart, and drawing a 
chair to the opposite side of the fire-place, seated himself tiiereupon, 
and began rubbing his hands with a degree of energy totally op- 
posed to his usual listless indiflerence, 

” Is there no otner fire in the house, that j^ou are necessitated to 
come and warm your hands here, Mr. Leicester? I fancied you 
were aware that if there is one thing in the world wdiich annoys me 
more than another, it is to be intruded on in a morning,” observed 
his lordship pettishly'. Then, tor the first lime catching sight of 
his brother’s face, he continued, ” What on earth are you looking 
so absurdly happy about?” 

“Now, don't growl this morning. Bell; be a little bit like a 
brother for once in your life. I’m come to receive your congratula- 
tions,” returned Leicester. 

” Has your Jewish rxioney- lender turned Christian and burned bia 
books, like the magicians of old?” inquired Bellefield sarcastically. 

” Something almost as wonderful,” replied bis brother, “tor 1 
live in good hopes of paying him.” 

“ Why, you don’t mean to say my father is going to be such a 
confounded tool as to pay your debts?” continued Bellefield, spring- 
ing up in the excitement of the moment, “ 1 swear I’ll not allow it; 
he’ll burden the estate so that when 1 come into the title 1 shall be 
a beggar.” 

“ Keep yourself cool, my good broiher; you might be sure I 
should never in my wildest moments dream of asking you to con- 
gratulate me on any good fortune which could by the most remote 
contingency either affect your interests or interfere with your ease 


168 


LEWIS AIIUNDEL. 


and comfort,” replied Leiccpter, for ouce provoked to say a cutting 
thing by his iuother’a intense selfisl}ness. 

” ideally, Chailes, I’m in no humor for foolery or impertinence,” 
said Lord" Bellefield snappishly; ” if there’s anything you wish me 
to know tell it at once; it not, 1 am expecting important letters, and 
should be glad to be alone.” 

“ hat would you say it you heard 1 was going to be hanged, 
Bell?” asked Charley. 

‘‘ Wish you joy ot your exalted destiny, and think things might 
have been worse,” was the answer. 

■‘Apply both the wish and the reflection to the present emer- 
gency,” returned Leicester, ” for I’m in nearly as sad a case— I'm 
going to be married.” 

” On the principle that what is not enough to keep one may sup- 
port tw’o, 1 suppose!” rejoined Lord Rellefield in a tone of the most 
hitler contem])t; ” Well, did 1 not think — but 1 wash my lumds ot 
the affair entirely— only mind this; (he property is sli icily entailed, 
iny father can do nothing witlmat my consent, and if you expect 
that you’re to be supported in idleness at our expumse — 

” My dear fellow, I expect nothingof the kind,” I'eturned Charley, 
caressing his whiskers: ” my wufe and 1 mean to set up a cigar 
ilivan, and all we sl)all look for from you is your custom; we cei- 
tainly do hope to make a decent living out of that.” 

Lord Ijellefield uttered an exclamation expressive of disgust, and 
then inquired abruptl}^: ‘‘ Well, who is the woman?” 

” ?he isu’t exactly a woman,” returned Charley meekly; ” that 
iS, of course, speaking literally and in a zoological point of view, 
she is a woman, but in the language ot civilized society she is a 
something more than a mete woman— tor instance, birth she is a 
lady; nature has beslovved on lier that somewhat unusual feminine 
attribute, a mind, to which art, through the medium ot the various 
educational sciences, has added cultivation; then she has the sweet- 
est, most lovable disposition — ” 

” Tlierel spttre me your lovers’ raptures,” returned Lord Belle- 
field* ‘‘ of all stale trash, they are the most sickening; and tell me 
plainly, in five words, who she is and what she has."' 

“Laura Peyton, heiress, value unknown,” returned Leicester 
emphatically and concisely. 

“Miss Peyton!” exclaimed Loid Bcllefield, in surprise. “My 
dear Charles,” he continued, in a more cordial tone tlian he had yet 
used, “ do you really mean that ,you’re engaged to Laura Peyton? 
Why, she is said to have between four and five thousand a year in 

the funds, besides a princely estate in shire; are you in 

earnest ?” 

“ Kever was so much so about anything before in my life,” re- 
turned Leicester. “ If 1 don’t marry Laura Peyton, and that very 
soon too, 1 shall do something so despeiate that society had better 
shut up shop at once, lor it’s safe to be ‘ uprooted' trom its very 
loundalions,’ as the Conservative papers say if a poor devil of a 
chartist happens to strop his razor b( fore committing the ‘ overt act ” 
b}' which he cuts liis own throat.” 

“ ’Pon my word,” exclaimed Lord Bellefield, as he became con- 
v.uced that his brother was really in earnest, “ ’pon my wmrd* 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


169 


you’ve played your cardR deucedly well. I dec are, if I hadn’t 
been booked for lillle Annie here, 1 wouldn’t have minded marrying 
the airl myself. Why, Charley, you’ll actually become a creditable 
member of society.” 

As he spoke, a tap was heard at (he door, and Antoine made his 
appearance, breatliless vvitli the haste in which he had run upstairs. 

Enjin elles sont arritees,'* he exclaimed, handing the letters ou 
a silver waiter; ” vhy tor they vos si tard, zie posUnan, he did slip 
up on von vot you call— qii/ils writ difficileSy ces sacres mots 
Anglais) slid? oui! oui ! he did slip himself ou von slid, and tum- 
bled into two ditches.” 

Lord Bellefield seized the letters eagerly; signing to the valet to 
leave the room, without heeding his lucid explanation of the delay. 
IJe selected one in a particular handwriting, and tearing it open, 
hastily perused the first tew lines; then rubbing his hands he ex- 
claimed with an oath: “ By ! Bepfo’s won and I'm a clear £12,- 

UOO in pocket. Charley, boy!” he continued with a sudden impulse 
of generosity (for no one is all bad) ” how much are your debts?” 

1 believe about £3,000 would cover them,” returned Leicester. 

” Then i’ll clear you, old fellow,” replied Lord Bellefield, slapping 
him on the shoulder, ‘‘ and you shall marry your rich bride a tree 
man. ” 

‘‘My dear Bellefield, 1 can’t allow it— you are too kind— I— I 
really don’t know how to thunk you — 1 cau’t think what’s come to 
everybody this morning,” cried poor Cbariey, as, fairly overpowered 
by his good fortune, he seized Lord Beilefield’s hand and wrung it 
warmly. At that moment those two men, each warped and hard- 
ened differently, as their dispositions difiered, by the tvorlil’s evil 
influence, fell more as brothers should feel toward each other than 
they had done since they played together years ago as little children 
at their mother's knee. AVith one the kindly feeling thus revived 
was never again entirely forgotten, with the other— but we will not 
anticipate. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

BEGINS ABRUPTLY AND ENDS UNCOMFORTABLY. 

” Well, what is it? fur t can see by your eyes that you have 
something you wish to ask me, Walter,” observed Lewis, as his 
pupil stood before him nervously moving his feet and twisting the 
lasii of a dog-whip round his hands. 

” Only Millar wanted— that is, he didn’t want, but he said he 
would take me out with him to see him shoot those great pretty 
birds.” 

” Plieasants,” suggested Lewis. 

” Yes, to see him shoot pheasants,” continued Walter, “ if you 
would let me go. Millar says,” he added, seeing that Lewis ap- 
peared doubtful, ” Millar says all real geutlemen like shooting, and 
that I’m quite old enough to learn.” 

One great change wrought iu VV'aller since he had been under 
Lewis’s direction — a change from which his tutor augured the must 
favorable results— was the almost total disappearance of those fits. 


170 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


of moibid despondency and indifference to external objects, at times 
almost amounting to unconscious imbecility, to which he hap 
loimerly been subject; it was iheretore, a part ot Lewis’s system to 
encourage him to follow up vigorously’' any pursuit for whicli he 
evinced the slightest predilection; indeed, so effectual a means did 
he consider this of arousing his faculties that he otlen saciificed to 
it the daily routine of mechanical leaching. Having, Iheretore, run 
over in his mind the pros and cons, and decided that if he accom- 
panied his pupil no danger could accrue, he graciously gave his 
consent, and having incased his feet in a stout pair of boots, and 
seen that Walter tollowed his example, both master and pupil 
hastened to the stable yard to join the worthy individual with whom 
the expedition had originated. 

Millar, w’ho, as the reader has probably ere this divined, was 
none other tlian General Grant's head gamekeeper, appeared anxious 
to be ( ff without delay, as he had received orders to kill a certain 
amount of game wdiich was required f(>r a forthcoming dinner- 
party. The morning w'as, as we have already said, lovely, and 
Lewis enjoyed the brisk walk through some ot the most wild and 
picturesque scenery the coiintiy afforded, with a degree ot zest at 
which he was himself surprised. The pheasants, however— not be- 
ing endow ed with such super -ornithological resignation as certain 
water fowl, who, when required for culinary purposes, were in- 
cited, as the nursery rhyme relates, to their own executions by the 
unalluring couplet. 


' ‘ Dilly dilly dilly ducks. 
Come and be killed I” — 


appeared singularly unwilling to face death at that particular 
epoch, and contrived accordingly by some means or other to render 
themselves invisible. In vain did Jffillar try the choicest spiuuies, 
in vain did he scramble through impossible hedges, where gaps 
there w’ere none, rendering liimsell a very piiicushion for thorns; in 
vain did he creep along what he was pleased to term dry ditches, 
till from the waist downward he looked more like a geological speci- 
men than a lealher-gaitered and corduroyed Christian; still the ob- 
durate plieasants refused to stand fire, either present or prospect- 
ive (gun or kitchen), and at the end of three hours’ hard walking 
through the choicest preserves, the disconsolate gamekeeper had only 
succeeded in bagging a brace. Atlengih, completely disheartened, 
he came to anchor on a stile, and produced a flask of spiri's, with 
the contents ot which (after fruitlessly pressing Lewis and Walter to 
partake thereof) he proceeded to regale hiniselJ. Finding himself 
the better for this prescription, he shouted to a disheveled individ- 
ual yclept the beater, who, for the trifling consideration of eighteen 
pence per diem and a meal ot broken victuals, delivered himself over 
to the agreeable certainty ot being wet ^(?the skin and scratched and 
lorn through it, with the by -no-means-rernote contingency of getting 
accideulall}^ shot into the bargain. The creature who appeared to 
answer to this summons, ana who, in spite of the uncomfortable 
description we have given of his occupation, seemed to enjoy his 
clay’s sport excessively, was too old for a boy and too young for a 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


171 


man. His face was, of course, scratched and bleeding, and his elf 
locks, drenched with the hoar frost, now melted into a species of 
halt-frozen gelatine, gave him a strange unearthly appearance. His 
clothing, if ra</8 which looked like cast-off garments ot an indigent 
scarecrow deserved the name, was so tattered and torn that the tact 
of their hanging upon him at all was calculated to slake one’s faith 
in the Jslewtonian theory of gravitation, till one gained a clew t(» the 
mystery by recollecting the antagonistic principle, ‘‘ attraction of 
cohesion;” the only personal attraction by the way (save a pair of 
clear gray eyes, giving a shrewd expression to his face) that our 
friend possessed. ^ 

” Villiam, ” began his superior— and here let it be remarked par- 
enthetically that it was the custom of this excellent gamekeeper in- 
variably to address his satellite for the time being as “Villiam,” 
utterly disregarding the occasional fact that the sponsors of the 
youth had seen fit to call him otherwise—” Villiam,” observed Mr. 
Millar, “ you’re vet.” This being an incontrovertible certainly, 
evident to the meanest capacity, “ Villiam ” did not feel calh d upon 
to reply in words, merely shaking himself like a Newfoundland 
dog, for the benefit of the* bystanders, and glancing wistfully at the 
flask. “ Yer vet right thro’ yer, V^illiam,” resumed his employer 
dogmatically; “ so shove a drop o’ this here down yer throat, and 
make spurrits and rater of yerself.” 

To this pioposilion “ Villiam ” replied by stretching out his 
hand, grasping the flask eagerly, then tugging at a tangled lock ot 
hair on his forehead, as a salutation to the assembled compan 5 ^ and 
growling out in a hoarse, damp voice, “ Here’s wushin’ had yer 
’ealths,” he proceeded to do his spiriting, by no means as gently as- 
the delicate Ariel was accustomed to perform that operation. Hav- 
ing thus qualified his cold-water system by the introduction of alco- 
hol, the spirit moved him; and he spake: 

“ Yer ain’t bagged much game, master, this mornin’, 1 reckon?” 

“Not 1,” was the reply, “no man can’t shoot things as ain’t 
there to be shot, yer know, Villiam; 1 can’t think vot’s got all the 
game.” 

“ They do tell 1 as pheasands as looks wery like ourn goes to 
Lunnun in t' carrier’s cart twice a veek,” observed Villiam, in a 
dreamy, absent kind of manner, as if the remark were totally for- 
eign to (he subj(ct under discussion. 

“Ah! that’s vot yer hear, is it, Villiam?” returned Millar care- 
lessly; “ hif that’s the case, 1 suppose (tor ’taint likely they valka 
there of theirselves) somebody must take ’em?” 

“ That IS right, master,” was the rejoinder. 

“ Has it hever cum across yer— take another drop ot spurrits, 
Villiam; yer vet — has it hever cum across yer who that somebody 
his?” demanded Millar, in an easy, careless tone of voice. 

“ His it true as ther general thinks o* puttin’ hon a second him- 
der-keeper?” rejoined “Villiam,” replying, like an Irish echo, by 
another question. 

“ lli’m avake, Villiam,” reuirnod his paircn with an encourag- 
ing wink; “it ceitingly his possibul hif I vas to tell ther generil 
that 1 kuowed a quick, hintelligent lad has might be weiy UbetuL 


LEWIS AKUKDEL. 


1 i /* 

in caieliin* voacliers—j^v understand, Yilliani— sich a thing might 
cum jiboiit.” 

“ In ihat case hi’m tree to mention that lii seen three coves a- 
cummin’ hoiit o’ Todshole Spinney vith a sack as vosn’t halto- 
gitlier hempty, a’tween Ihree and four o’clock I his here blessed 
nmrnin’.” 

“ And vot might yer be a-doin’ yerself bout o’ bed at that time 
o’ night, Villiain?” inquired Millar suspiciously. 

“ A -lying in a dry ditch vith my Ueyes open,” returned ihe imp 
significantly. 

“] sees!'’ rejoined the keeper reflectively, “yer didn’t happen 
haccidenlally to know any o’ they three coves, Villiam, 1 suppose?” 

“ Ther von has carried the sack woiu’l haltogither unlike long 
Hardy the blacksmith,” was the reply. 

The worthy Mr. Millar meditated tor some minutes in silence on 
the information thus acquired; then, rousing himself with a sudden 
start, he observed, ” Now, Yilliam, hif you’ll be so hobligiug has 
to beat along that ere ’edge-row to the right, ve’ll see hif ve can 
knock hover anolher brace o’ longtails, and ve can talk about Mr. 
Hardy ven ve have finished our day’s vork. There’s a precious 
young limb o’ vickedness,” he added, turning to Lewis as the boy 
got out of earshot; “ he’s von hot ’em, bless yer, only he’s turned 
again ’em vith a mercenary view, hof getting a h’lnder-keeper’s 
silivation.” 

‘‘ In which rascality do you mean to allow him to succeed?” 
asked Lewis. 

“Not by no manner o’ means— halways supposing lean pump 
him dry without,” was the prudent reply; and, shouldering his 
double-ban el, the gamekeeper quitted his perch on the stile and re- 
sumed his shooting. 

Whether the intelligence he had received had aftected his nervous 
system (reserving for future discussion the more doubtful question 
of his possessing such an aristocratic organization), or whether in 
the excitement of the moment he had allowed himself to imbibe an 
unusually liberal allowance of the contents of the spirit-liask, we do 
not pretend to decide; but certain it is that he missed consecutively 
two as fair shots as ever presented themselves to the gun of a sports- 
man, and ended by wounding, wuthout bringing down, a young hen 
pheasant, despite the warning cry of ” wmre lien ” from the perfidi- 
ous ” Yilliam,” then located in a quagmire. 

‘‘Yell, I never did!” exclaimed the unfortunate perpetrator of 
this, the greatest crime which in a gamekeeper’s opinion sportsmen 
can commit, ” 1 aven’t done sich a think has that since i wos a boy 
o’ thirteen year old, and father quilted me with the dog-whip fur it, 
and sarved me right too. This here’s a wery snipey bit, too,” he 
continued deiectedly, ” but hif i can’t ’it a pheasant, hit’s useless 
tc 'old up my gun hat a snipe.” 

” Your ill-luck in the morning has made you impatient, and 
spoiled your shooting,” observed Lewis, wishing good-naturedly 
to propiiiale his companion. 

This speech, however, seeuied to produce just a contrary effect, 
for Millar answeied gruttly, ‘‘ Perhaps, mister, you fancies as you 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 173 

can do better yourself; Ijit so, you’re velcome to take the gun aud 
try.” 

I’ve no objection,” replied Lewis, smiling at the very evident 
contempt in which, as a ‘‘ Lunnuuer,” his companion held him; 
“ i'll try a shot or two, if you like.” 

” Here you are. then, sir,” was the reply as the keeper handed 
him the gun; ‘‘ the right barrel’s shotted for pheasants and the left 
for snipes; so look hout, and hif yer don’t bag Yilliam or Master 
Yalter here hit’ll be a mercy, 1 expects.” 

It the unfortunate Millar hoped to console himself tor liis own 
lailure by witnessing a similar 7^^^shap on the part of the young 
tutor, he was once more doomed to be disappointed; for scarcely bad 
Lewis taken possessoin of the gun wdien a splendid cock-pheasant 
rose within distance, thoujrh further oft than either of the shots the 
keeper had just misled, and, ere its gaudy plumage had well caught 
the ra^^s of the sun above the lops of the young plantation, fell to 
the ground, quivering in the agonies of death. As the smoke from 
the discharge cleared awaj^ a snipe, scared alike by the report of the 
gun and the approach of the beater, sprung from a thick clump of 
-alder bushes, and darted away uttering its peculiar cry. 

” No use~hit’s clean out o’ shot,” exclaimed Millar, as Lewis, 
swift as thought, again raised the gun to his shoulder. Slightly 
piqued by the keeper’s contemptuous manner, he determined not to 
throw away a chance of vindicating his skill as a marksman, and 
though he felt by no means sure of success, on the ” nothing vent- 
ure nothing have ” principle, the instant he got a clear sight of the 
bird he blazed away at it. Great then was his delight to perceive 
the snipe suddenly tower upward, and then drop to the ground, as 
it struck by lightning. 

” Vel, hif that hain’t a clever shot!” ejaculated Millar, surprised 
into admiration in spite of himself; ” bless’d if yer ’aren’t tuk the 
tshine hout of me properly. 1 thort yer vos a reg’lar green ’un, but 
I’m free to confess I couldn’t ’ave killed that ’ere bird at that dis- 
ance ther best o’ times.” 

” Nor have I, it seems,” exclaimed Lewis, as the snipe, which 
was only wounded, rose, flew a short distance, aud dropped again. 

‘‘ Hit's dead this time, I’ll bet a quart,” observed Millar; ” hit’ll 
never git hup no more, hif ve can honly And it ” 

” 1 think 1 can,” said Lewis, ” 1 marked the exact spot where it 
fell. Walter, do you stay with Millar till 1 come back. 1 should 
not like to lose it. ” 

So saying, Lewis, completely carried away by the excitement of 
the sport, returnd the gun to its owner, aud dasliing the branches 
aside, bounded forward, aud was soon hidden among the trees, as 
he forced his way through the dense under wood toward the spot 
where he trusted to And the snipe. vVith some difficulty, and after 
much energetic scrambling, Lewis reached the place where he had 
seen the bird fall, but even then it was no such easy matter to flod 
it, nor was it till he had nearly decided that he must relinquish the 
search that he discovered his victim caught in a forked branch, and 
perfectly dead. Having secured his prize, the next object was to 
rejoin his companions, and this accordingly he endeavored to accom- 
plish without delay; but since the days of pious ^ueas, the task 


174 


LEWIS ARUJSTDEL. 


of retracinjr our steps, the “ revocare gradiis,” has been a work of 
difficulty, more especially if we have begun by taking a few in a 
wrong direction, and Lewis’s case proved no exception to the rule. 
After one or two wrong turns, he became completely bewildered, 
and feeling sure that he should never discover his right course w iiilo 
surrounded by the thick underwood, he struck into the first path 
which presented itself, and following its windings, found himself 
almost immediately close to the hedge which separated that side ot 
the plantation from a grass-field beyond. As he trade his way lo- 
waid a gap in this hedge, his attention was attracted by the sound 
of voices, and on approaching the spot he perceived two persons in 
earnest conversiition. They were a man and a girl, the former, who 
wore the dress ot a gentleman, having his arm round his com- 
panion’s waist. The interview seemed, however, about to termi- 
nate, tor as Lewis paused, uncertain whether or not to make himself 
known to the lovers (for such he conjectured them lo be) the gentle- 
man stooped, imprinted a kiss on the damsel’s brow, then saying, 
“ Remember, you have promised!” loosed the bridle of a horse which 
was fastened to the branch of a tree, sprung into the saddle and 
rode hastily away— not, however, before Lewis had recognized the 
features of Lord Bellefield. 

Surprise at this discovery was the first feeling of which Lewis was 
conscious; then a sudden desire seized him to ascertain who the girl 
could be, and without waiting to reflect on what further course it 
might be advisable for him to pursue, he crossed the gap, sprung 
over the ditch beyond ana presented himself before her. With a 
violent start and a slight scream at this sudden apparition, the girl 
raised her head disclosing to Lewis the intelligent face and earnest 
eyes of the 5 ^oung female who had accosted him on the previous 
evening immediately after the affair of the glove had taken place. 
Lewis was the first to speak. ‘‘ 1 have startled you, 1 fear,” he be- 
gan; ” 1 quitted my companions to go in search of a snipe 1 had 
just shot, and, becoming bewildered in the wood, have contrived to 
miss them. Hearing voices in this diiection, 1 jumped over the 
hedge, hoping 1 should find some one who could iell me how to re- 
trace my steps.” 

‘‘ Were you in the hazel walk when yon left your party, sir?” in- 
quired the girl, in a voice which faltered from various conflicting 
emotions. 

Lewis answered in the affirmative, and she continued: 

‘‘ Then, it 3 ^ou go straight on till you come to the corner of the 
field, you will see a gate on your left hand; get over that and fol- 
low the road W’hich leads into the wood, and it will bring you ta 
your friends.” 

Lewis thanked her, and then stood a moment, irresolute whether 
or not to allude to the parting he had just witnessed. It was no 
affair of his, and yet could he answer it to his conscience not to 
warn her against the designs which, he could not for a moment 
doubt. Lord Bellefield entertained against her? 

” Do not think me interfering without reason,” he observed, ” but 
1 was an involuntary witness to your parting with that gentli man^ 
and i wish to ask you if you are acquainted with his name and 
position ?’* 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 175 

The ^^irl cast down her eyes, and after a pause murmured that she 
knew lie was very rich. 

“ And his name?” urired Lewis. 

” iVlr. Leicester, brother to the young lord,” she believed. 

” He has told you that, has he?”^ returned Lewis, sternly; ” and 
did it not occur fo you to inquire of the servants last night whether 
your we althy admirer had revealed to you his real name?” 

” No; slie had never doubted that he had done so.” 

” And perhaps you were unwilling to call attention to your con- 
nection w i\h him Iw making the inquiry?” resumed Lewis. 

A bright blush proved that he had hit upon the truth; but the 
probinff nature of his questions roused the girl’s spirit, and, raising 
her eyes, she looked him full in the face, as she in her turn in- 
quired : 

” And pray, sir, who are you, and what right have you to ques- 
tion me in this w^ay?” 

” My name is Lewis Arundel; 1 reside at Broadhurst, as tutor to 
Sir Walter Desborough,” was the reply; ” and my right to ask you 
these questions is the right every man possesses to do his best to 
counteract the designs of a heartless libertine; for such 1 take your 
triend to be, and now 1 will gi^e you my reasons for thinking him 
so. In the first place, he has not told you his true name: he is not 
Lord Bellefield’s bro’.her, as he pretends, but Lord Belletield him- 
selt; and, in the scconil place, at the very moment when he is mak- 
ing professions of affection here to you, he is engaged to be married 
to his cousin, the daughter of General Grant.” 

” It is not true; 5^011 hate him,” exclaimed the girl with flashing 
eyes; “you quarreled wdth him last night, and now you seek to 
revenge yourself by sowing dissension betw^een him and me; but 
you shall not succeed. 1 see through your meanness and despise 
you for it.” 

‘‘ Girl, you are infatuated,” returned Lewis, angrily, ” and must 
reap tlie fruits of your obstinate tolly. 1 spoke only for your good, 
and told you the simple tnitij; if you choose to disbelieve me the 
sin will lie at your door and not mine.” 

As he spoke he turned and left her. By the time be reached the 
gate into the wood his conscience began to reproach him for having 
been loo hasty. He looked back to see it the girl was still there; she 
bad not moved from the spot wdiere he had quitted her, but stood 
motionless, apparently buried in the deepest thought. Suddenly 
observing that his eyes w’ere directed tow'ard her, she started, and, 
drawing her shawl close;' around her, huriied away in an opposite 
direelion. Lewis watched her retreating figure till it became no 
longer visible; then, getting over the gate, he walked leisurely along 
the turfed road to rejoin his companions. He was no cow^ard, far 
from it; but had he known that txi that moment agun-barrel covered 
him, leveled by the slalv/art arm and keen eye of one before whose 
unerring aim by the broad light of day or beneath the cold rays of 
the moon, hare, pheasant, or partrijge, fell like leaves in aulurn— 
one who, hiding from the gaze of men, had witnessed his parting 
from the girl not flve minutes since;— had he known the deep inter- 
est felt for her by this person, and how, his suspicions being aroused, 
he had watched day after day to discover the features of her clan* 


17G 


LEWIS ARUXDEL. 


destine suitor, but liMil never succeeded, till, creeping through the 
bushes, he had accidentally come up at the moment when Lewis, 
having spoken eagerly to her, turned and left the spot; had he 
known the struggle between the good and evil principle in that 
man’s heart— a struggle on the result of which depended life or 
death; had he known all this, Lewds Arundel, (hough a brave man, 
would scarcely have paced that greenwood alley with a pulse so 
calm, a brow so iiuruftied and serene. 




CHAPTER XXV^II. 

DE GRANDEYILLE MEETS HIS MATCH. 

Unpleasant as w’as the situation in which Lewis was left at the 
end of the last chapter, we can scarcely imagine that any of our 
readers, how^ever they may be accustomed to look on the “night 
side of nature,” can have coolly made up their miiuls lo the worst 
and settled to their own dissatisfaction that he fell a victim to the 
poacher’s gun. We say we can not imagine such a possibility — 
not because we have any very deep reliance on the tender hearted- 
ness of all our fellow-creatures, seeing that this tale may tall into 
the hands of a poor-law guardian oi a political economist; that a 
butcher may read it tresh from the shambles, or a barrister after 
defending some confessed murderer; but w^e feel certain, butcher or 
banister, lawgiver or guardian, must alike perceive that as we are 
writing the life and adventures of Lewis Arundel, we can not com- 
mit manslaughter without adding thereunto suicide; or, to speak 
familiarly, we can not kill Lewis without docking cui own tale; 
therefore" the utmost extent that our most truculent reader can 
possibly hope for must be a severe gunshot wound, entailing a lin- 
gering illness and a shattered constitution, liut even these pleasant; 
and reasonable expectations are doomed to meet with disapjioiut- 
ment, the fact being that, almost at the moment in wiiich “ long 
Hardy ” (for he it was) leveled his gun at Lewis’s retreating figure, 
his quick ear caught a sound betokening the advance of some per- 
son ihrough the bushes iu his immetliate vicinity, and neither wish- 
ing lo encounter any of the gamekeeper’s saielliles nor considering 
the deed he had meditated exactly calculated to be performed before 
any, even the most select audience, the poacher slowly recovered 
his gun, and proceetled to convey himself away, after a singular 
siiake-jike fashion of his own, reserving to himself the right of 
shooting his supposed enemy at some more convenient season. In 
the meantime Lewis walked quietly on, unconscious of the danger 
he had escaped, until a (urn in the road brought him in sight of his 
companions. During the course of their JLiotneward walk Lewis 
questioned the gamekeeper as to his inleiitious concerning Iho 
poachers to whose proceedings he hail tliat morning gained a clew. 

“ Veil, ycr see, Mr. Arundel,” returned Millar, in whose estima- 
tion Lewis had risen fifty per cent, since his clever shot at the snipe 
— “ yer see, it ain’t the fust time as this chap. Hardy, has give us a 
good deal o’ trouble; — we calched him a poachin’ about three years 
ago, and he wor in jail for six mouths at a stretch; veil, veu 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


177 


he cum out he tuk to bad courses altoirether— jined ther chartists, 
them chaps as pleaches equalerty, 'cos, iieing at the wery bottom of 
ther ladder therselves, equalerty would pull them hup and their 
betters down; vunce let 'em get to ther middle round, and they'd 
soon give up equalerty— hit would be the ‘ haristogracy of talent ’ 
or ther ‘ supremacy of physic-all force ’ (vicli means, power of pitch- 
ing into somebody else) vith 'em then. 1 hates such cant as 1 hates 
varmint, so 1 do." 

Having delivered Idmself of this opinion with much emphasis, the 
keeper proceeded to relieve Jiis mind by licking an inoffensive dog 
for an imaginary offense ere he continued: 

" Vel, after he jined the chartists, he vent toLunnun as a delicate, 
as tliey calls 'em; and has they found him in wit ties and drink, 
lodgin' and hother parquisites, in course he worn't in no hurry to 
cum back; howsomdever, 1 suppose, at last they (hskivered what 1 
could ha’ told ’em at furst — that he wasn't worth his keep; and so 
they packed him off home agen. 1 'spected vhen 1 heard he vas 
arrived vot he’d be hup to. He calls hisself a blacksmith; but ha 
drives more shots into hares and pheasands than nails into ’orses’ 
’oofs, you may r^^pend.” 

" And how do you propose to put a stop to his depredations?" in- 
quired Lewis. 

" Vy, 1 should like to catch him in the wery act— nab him villi 
the game upon him," returned the keeper meditatively; " then vo 
could get him another six months; but he’s so precious sly, and un- 
common swift of foot, loo, though he ain’t fur hofi my age, vicli 
shall ueycr see five-and-torty no more." 

‘‘ 1 wish, Millar," said Lewis, after a moment’s consideration. " I 
wish that whenever you receive information which you think likely 
to lead to this man’s capture, you’d send me word; there’s nothing 
1 should like better than to lend you a hand in taking him — 1 might 
be useful to you, for 1 used to be reckoned a fast runner." 

‘‘ And suppose it comes to blows? Them poarching chaps is 
rough customers to handle sometimes," rejoined Millar, with a cun- 
ning twinkle in his e 3 'e, as if he expected this information would 
alter his companion’s intentions. 

‘‘So much the more exciting,” returned Lewis eagerly; ‘'an 
affray with poachers would be a real treat after such a life of in- 
action as I’ve been leading lately." 

As he spoke — throwing off tor a moment the proud reserve wiiicli 
had now become habitual to him— his eyes flashed, he drew himself 
up to his full height, and flung back his graceful head with an air 
of proud deflance. The gamekeeper regarded him fixedly, and 
mentally compared him with— not the fighting gladiator, for 31illai’s 
unclassical education had never rendered him acquainted with that 
illustrious statue; but he had once beeu present at a prize- tight, iu 
which a tall, athletic 3 'outh, rejoicing iu the ornithological sobriquet 
of " the spicey Dabchick," proved victor, and to that JJabchick did 
he assimilate Lewis. At length his thoughts found vent in the fol- 
lowing ejaculation: 

‘‘Veil, Mr. Arundel, hif there’s many more like 3 mu hup there, 
that blessed Lunuuu can’t be as bad a place as 1 thought it.’’ 

Lewis smiled; perhaps (tor after all he was human and under 


178 


LEWIS AllUXDEL. 


twenty-one) the evident admiration which had replaced the no less 
evident contempt with which the sturdy p;amekceper had regarded 
him earlier in tiieir acquaintance was not without its charm; at all 
events, when, after another hour’s shoofing, Millar went home to 
dinner, and Lewis and Waller returned to Broadhurst, the young 
tutor diminished his iccome to the extent of halt a crown, and the 
keeper, as he pocketed the “ tip,” renewed liis assurance that he 
would send Mr. Arundel limel3Miotice “ vhenever there vas a chance 
of being down upon that poarching villain. Hardy.” 

Charley Leicester, as he did not start for Constantinople, found him- 
self at liberty to escort Laura Peyton and his Cousin Annie to view 
the luiiis of Monkton Priory, which in themselves were quite worth 
the trouble of a ride; had they, however, been a less interesting 
combination of bricKs and mortar than the ISational Gallery in Traf- 
algar Square (supposing such a thing possible), it would not have 
-signified to the party who then visited them. Never were three in- 
dividuals less inclined to he critical or more thoroughly determined 
to be pleased with everything. The old gray ruins, frowning be- 
neath the clear wintery sky, appeared the color of strawberry ice to 
them; ever}^ object reflected the rose tint of their happiness. As for 
Charley, a change had come o’er him; the indolent man of fashion, 
whose spotless gloves and irreproachable boots were the envy and 
admiration of Bond {Street, bad disappeared, and in his place arose 
an honest, genuine, light hearted, agreeable, sensible being, to 
wdiom nothing seemed to come amiss, and who seemed endowed 
with a preternatural power of diffusing his own supei abundant hap- 
piness among all those who came in contact with him. The girth 
of his saddle broke; they had no groom with them. ” Grooms were 
such a bore, he would be groom,” Charley had said; consequently 
there were no means at hand which the injury could be repaired. 

” Well, never mind; he would get some string at the first cottage 
and tie it up; he was rather glad it had happened; riding without a 
giith was great fun,” 

But Laura’s horse stumbled, and Charley, forgetting liis precari- 
ous seat, daslied in the spurs, intending to spring forward to her 
assistance. The horse did spring forwaid, but the saddle turned 
round. Mr. Leicester w^as, however, fated that day to fall on his 
legs, literally as well as metaphorically, and be.yond being splashed 
up to his knees by alighting on a spot where the sun had thaw^ed 
the ice into a puddle, he sustained no further injiny. Jjaura was 
frightened; lie must not mount again till he had been able to get 
the girth mended. 

” Very wcdl,” returned Charley: ” he would lead the horse then; 
it was pleasanter to w'alk than to ride such a cold day as that; he 
liked it paiticularly.” 

So he marched sturdily through mud and mire, leading his own 
horse, and lesting his hand on the mane of the animal ridden by 
Laura, tor the space of some five miles, laughing and talking all the 
time so agreeably that the young lady came to the conclusion that 
she had never properly appreciated ids powers of conversation till 
that moment. Ahogeiher, despite the broken girth and the mud 
and the C(/ld, to say notliing of a slight snow-storm which overtook 
them ere they reached home, each member of that little party felt 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 179 

mentally convinced that they had never enjoyed a ride so much be- 
fore in all their lives. 

“ Arundel, where are you?” exclaimed Leicester, putting; his head 
into the study as he passed the door on his way to his apartment. 
” Can you spare me five minutes’ conversation?” he continued, as 
Lewis, closing; a book, ruse to receive him, 

” Certainly,” was the repl}^; “ pray come in.” 

‘‘ i’ve been wishing to see you all day,” resumed Leicester, care- 
fully shutiing the door, and glancing round the room. ” 'Where is 
your charge?” 

” He is with the general,” w^as the reply; ” he likes to have him 
for half an hour every day before he goes to dress; he talks to him^ 
and tries to instill into his mind correct notions regarding things in 
general and his own future social position in particular. Walter sits 
still and listens, but I’rn afraid he does not understand much about 
it.” 

“ No great loss, either, I’ve a notion,” returned Charley irrever- 
ently. He paused, whistled a few bars of ” Son Geloso, ” entangled 
his spur in the hearth-rug, extricated it with much difficulty, then, 
turning abruptly to Lewis, he exclaimed, ” Arundel, I’m no hand 
at making fine speeches, but recollect it ever you want a friend, 1 
owe you more than 1 can possibly repay 3 ^ou. Not that this is such 
a very uncommon relation lor me to stand in toward people,” he 
added with a smile. 

” Nay,” returned Lewis, ” jmu are reversing our positions; 1 am 
your debtor for my introduction to this family, and for nu amount 
of kindness and consideration which you must be placed, like my- 
self, in a dependent situation fully to appreciate. Hut,” he added, 
glancing at his friend’s happy face, ” I hope you have some good 
news to tell me.” 

” 'you are right in your conjecture,” replied Leicester, “but it is 
mainly owing to your straightforward and sensible advice that I 
have gained the prize I strove for. 1 was within an ace of losing 
it, though;” and he then gave a hast}" out|ine of his day’s advent- 
ures, with \yhich the reader has been already made acquainted. 

Lewis congratulated him w^armly on his good fortune: ” You see 
1 was right when 1 told you Miss Peyton was not so indifferent to- 
you as you imagined,” he said, ” and that she liked you, not be- 
cause you were a man of fashion, the admired of all admirers, but 
because she had sufficient penetration to discover that you were some- 
thing more— that you possessed higher and better qualities, and 
were not — ” 

‘‘ Go on, my dear Arundel,” urged Leicester, as Lewis paused, 
” go on ; i like plain speaking wdien it comes from a friendl}' mouth.” 

‘‘ The mere butterfl}" you strove to appear, I was going to say,^*^ 
resumed Lewis; ” but you will think me strangel.y impertinent.” 

‘‘Not at all,” returned Leicester, “it’s the truth; lean see it 
plainly now. I’ve taken as much trouble to make mysed appear a 
fool as other men do to gain a reputation for w isdom. Well, it’s 
never too late to mend; 1 shall tuin over a new leaf from this time 
forih, give up dress, restrict myself to one cigar a daj", moderate my 
affection for pale ale, invest capital in wmrsted gloves and a cotton 
umbrella, aud become a regular business character.” He paused. 


180 


LEWIS AUL'KDEL. 




and drawing a cliair to the lire, seated himself, stretching out his 
legs, subjected his bools, which bore unmistakable traces of his 
pedestrian episode, to the influence of the blazing wood. Having 
thus made himself comfortable, he fell into a fit of musing which 
lasted till, after gazing vacantly at his extended legs for soine mo- 
ments, his features suddenly assumed an eager expression, and lie 
exclaimed, “ Confound those blockheads, Schneider & Shears; I 
suppose if I’ve told them once, Vve told them fifty times, to give 
jiiore room in the leg for riding-trousers— a horse’s back is a wide 
thing, and, of course, when you stretch your legs across it, you re- 
quire the trousers to fit sufficiently loose io accommodate themselves 
to the position; they need not set like a couple of hop sacks either; 
the thing’s simple enough — 1 know if I’d a pair of scissors 1 could 
out them out myself.” 

Glancing at Lewis as be spoke, Leicester perceived that he was 
struggling not over successfully to preserve his gravity, and the ab- 
surdity of the thing striking him for the first time, he indulged in a 
liearty laugh at his own expense ere he added, ” Heigh ho! it’s not 
so easy to get rid of old habits as one imagines: 1 see it will take me 
longer to uupuppyize myself than 1 was aware of. Seriously, how- 
ever, 1 don’t mean to continue a mere idler, living on my wife’s 
fortune. My father has interest with government, and 1 shall ask 
him to push it, and obtain tor me some creditable appointment or 
othei. He will have no diificult}"; the Hon. Charles Leicester, hus- 
band to the rich Miss Peyton, will possess much stronger claims 
upon his country than Charlev'' Leicester, the portionless younger 
son. In this age of humbug it is easy enough to get a thing, if you 
don’t care whether you have it or not; but if you chance to be some 
poor wretch to whom the obtaining it is life or death, ten to one 
but you are done out of it. Poverty is the only unpardonable sin 
in these days; the worship of the golden calf is a species of idolatry 
to w'hich Christians are prone as w^ell as Jew^s; it’s rare to find a 
skeptic as to that religion, even among the most inveterate unbe- 
lievers.” 

Jjewis, to w’hom Leicester in his self -engrossment liad not per- 
ceived that his remarks wmuld apply, hit liis lip and colored; then, 
wishing to save his companion the mortification of discovering that 
he had accidentally wounded his feelings, he hastened to change the 
conversation by observing: 

‘‘ How will the magnanimous Marmaduke bear the news of your 
success?” 

‘‘ Ohl to be sure, 1 was going to tell you about, him. when some- 
tliing put it out of my bead,” returned Leicester. ‘‘ The gieat 13e 
Grandeville was greater than ever on the suhiecl; it was such tun. 
He came up to me after breakfast this morning, and catching hold 
of my button, began: ‘ Ar— Mr. Leicester, excuse— ar— won’t de- 
tain you five minutes, but— ar — vou see in regard to— ar— the matter 
we conversed on j^esterday, when you were good enough to give me 
the benefit of your opinion concerning a certain proposed alliance, 
if 1 may call your attention once more to the subject; you will per- 
ceive that — ar— the afiair has assumed a very different aspect — ar — 
indeed so completely diflerent that 1 feel confident that you will 


LEWIS AllUNDEL. 


181 


agree with me in considering the— ar— in fact the arrangement no 
longer desirable,’ 1 told liim 1 was quite pref)ared to think as he 
did on tins point, and begged to know in what the mysterious im- 
pediment consisted. ‘ Well, sir— ar-1 don’t say it— ar— by way of 
a boast — ar— such things arc quite out of my line, but you must 
have yourself perceived the very marked encouragement which my 
advances met with yesterday evening — ar — in tact the game was — 
ar — in my own hands!’ 1 siicceed(Ml in repressing a strong desire to 
kick him, and he continued with bland dignity: ‘ Ar — finding that 
this was the cause, 1 felt that, as man of honor, 1 was bound— ar- 
to make up my mind definitely as to my future course, and had— ar 
— all but resolved to acquaint the young lady with the brilliant, that 
is — ar — in many points unexceptionable position which awaited her, 
when fortunately — 1 miglit almost say piovidentially — it occurred to 
me to open a letter 1 had that evening received from my triend in 
the Herald’s College. Imagine my horror to learn that her actual 
father, the immediate previous Peyton himself, had — ar — horrcsco 
rejerens^ as Pliny Inis it— 'pon my word it quite upset me!’ ‘ This 
dreadful papa, liad he murdered somebody?’ inquired 1. * No, sir,’ 
was tlie answer; ‘ Lord Ferrers and oilier men with unexception- 
able pedigrees have committed that crime; there is nothing neces- 
sarily vulgar about murder; the case was far worse — this intolerable 
proxinfiate ancestor, who has not rested in his honored grave above 
half a dozen years, was not only guilty of belonging to an intensely 
respectable firm in Liverpool, but had actually been insane enough 
to allow his name to be entered as sleeping partner in a large retail 
house on Ludgate Hill! Fancy a De Grandeville marrying the 
<Jaughter of “ Plumpstein and Peyton, dealers in cotton goods;” 
’pon my w’ord, sir, it took away my breath to think of the narrow 
escape I’d had!’ ‘ And the young lady?’ inquired 1. ‘ Ar— of course 
it will be — ar — disappointment, as I’ve no doubt she considered— ar — 
that she’d made her hook cleveily, and stood to win, as the belting 
men say; but— ar— she soon had tact enough to perc. ive that the 
grapes were sour — ai — took that tone immediately — clever girl, sir. 
very— ar— 1 shouldn’t wonder if she w^ere to give out that she had 
discouraged my intentions -ar — in fact, virtually refused me— ar— 1 
shall not contradict her, 1 owe her that — ar. With the exception of 
yourself, INIr. Leicester, her secret wdll be perfectly safe in m}^ keep- 
ing.’ It was now my turn; so drawing myself up as stiffly as old 
Grant himself, 1 said, ‘ Confidence begets confidence, Air. De 
Grandeville: so, in return for your candor, allow me to inform you 
that Ali«s Peyton, doubtless driven to despair by your desertion, has 
done me the honor to accept me as your substitute! One word more,’ 
I continued, as, completely taken aback, he flushed crimson and 
began stammering out apologetical ejaculations. ‘ 1 have listened in 
silence to yOur account of the transaction: I confess 1 have my own 
opinion about the matter, but, should you adhere to your intention 
of preserving a strict secrecy in regard to the aflair, 1 shall do so 
likewise; if not, 1 may feel called on to publish a somewhat differ- 
ent version of these love passages, one which will scarcely prove so 
agreeable to your self-esteem, unless, indeed,’ I added, seeing that 
he was about to bluster, ‘ you prefer seUlin£r the business in a shorter 
way; in which case 1 shall be quite at your service.’ So saying, 1 


IS'l LEWIS ARUNDEL. 

laised m3' liat, bowed, and, turning on my heel, lett him to his^ 
meditations.” 

” AVhich must have been ot a singularly unsatisfactory ntuture, 1 
should imagine,” returned Lewis, laugliiug. ” But there is no 
chance of your fighting, 1 hope?” 

” Not ihe slightest, 1 expect,” replied Leicester. ” De Grande- 
ville, to do him justice, is no coward, but he will have sense enough 
to see that he can gain no eclat giving the affair publicity, and 
will remain quiet for his own sake. Luckily, I’m not of a quarrel- 
some temperament, 01 I should have horsewhipped him, or, at least, 
tried it when he was talking about Laura.” 

” It was a temptation which in your place 1 could not have re- 
sisted,” rejoined Lewis. 

” Ah, it’s easy to be magnanimous when one is happy,” returned 
Leicester; ” besides, 1 really was rather sorry for the poor devil, for, 
as 1 dare say you’ve guessed long ago, I’ve no doubt Laura refused 
him last night—in tact, she as good as told me so.” 

” Perhaps it ma}' benefit him, ’’Remarked Lewis; ” his vanity w’as 
too plethoric, and a little judicious lowering may conduce to the 
general health ol his moral system.” 

” I’m alraid it’s a case of too long standing,” replied Leicester; 
‘‘ such a lamentable instance of egotism on the brain is not so easily 
to be cured — however, he’s had a pretty dose this time, 1 must con- 
fess. And now, seeing that my boots have been wet through for 
the last three hour', the sooner I get rid of them the better.” So 
saying, Charley Leicester took himself off, preparatory to perform- 
ing the same operation on his perfidious boots. 


CHAPTER XXYllI. 

THE GENERAL TAKES THE FIELD. 

The interview which Lewis had witnessed between Lord Belle- 
field and the gill dwelt in his thoughts, and was a source ot much 
doubt and uneasiness to him. The quiet secluded life he had led 
for the last year, affording ample time tor meditation — the almost 
total want ot societ.y (for poor W'aher was no companion)— the pe- 
culiar posiliim in which he was placed, shut out from all the pleas- 
ures and excitements natural to his age and taste — had given an un- 
usually reflective turn to his vigorous mind, and produced in him a 
gravit}' and depth of character to wdiich, under different circum- 
stances, he miglit never have attained. Thus, in the views he took 
ot life, he was accustomed to look beyond the surface, and deeming 
it unworthy of a believer in the tiutlis of Christianity to attribute 
events to the mere caprice of a blind destiny, was rather disposed to 
trace in such occurrences the finger of a directing Providence, and 
to consider them opportunities purposel}' thrown in our way, for the 
use or abuse of which we should one day be called to account, as tor 
every talent committed to our charge. Holding these opinions, he 
could not be content to sit dowui quietly with the knowledge of whe h 
he bad become possessed, without making some effort to prevent 
Lord Bellefield from successfully accomplishing tlie evil lie could 


LEWIS ALUXDEL. 


183 


not doubt be meditated. But what, then, should he do? The ques- 
tion was not an easy one to answer. Tho most natural and eft<'Ct- 
ual means to employ would be to inform General Grant of the affair; 
he was the person likely (as the father of his future bride) to |x)ssess 
most influence over Lord Bellefielcl, while as possessor of the estate 
on which they resided, he was certain to meet wdth respect and 
obedience from the par nts of the girl. But besides the dislike 
every honorable man feels to undertake the office of tale-bearer, 
Lewis’s chivalrous nature shrunk from even the appearance of seek- 
ing to wreak his revenge on the man who had insulted him, by in- 
juring him in the opinion of his future father-in-law. Again, were 
he to seek out the girl and expostulate with her, he felt certain he 
sliould produce no good effect; the fact of her being aware of the 
terms on which he stood with her admirer would render her sus- 
picious of his intentions, and prevent her from paying any n-gard to 
ids arguments. At last it occuired to him to mentiDu the thing to 
Charles Leicester, and persuade him, if possible, to visit the girl and, 
at all events, to make her aware of the deceit which had been prac- 
ticed upon her by his brother in assuming his name. Accoriiiugl}", 
he determined to seek an eaily opportunity of speaking to Leicester 
on the subject; but good resolutions are always more easy to form 
than to carry into effect. On the following morning Leicester went 
to town, as well to acquaint his father with the important step he 
contemplated, as to bear in person an invitation to an old famil}’ 
friend and ci-demiit guardian of Laura Peyton’s to join the parl}^ at 
Broadhurst; nor did be return till after several days had elapsed, so 
that it was nearly a week ere Lewis found the opportunity he sought 
for 

There had been a dinner-party at Broadhurst, and, as was the cus- 
tom of the neighborhood, the guests had departed early. Lewis 
waited till Leicester had disposed ot a lady whom he was handing 
to her carriage; then, drawing him aside, he made him acquainted 
with ttie interview which he had involuntarily witnessed, informing 
liim at ihe same time of his object in so doing. As he proceeded 
with his tale, Leicester’s brow grew dark. “ It is really too bad of 
Bellefield,” he muttered, “ situated as he is in regard to this family; 
it shows a want of all proper feeling— all delicacy of mind— assum- 
ing m,y name loo! Suppose it had come to Laura’s ears by any 
chance — ’pon my word I’ve a great mind to speak to him about it 
— though, 1 don’t know, it would onlyJead to a quarrel— Bellefield 
is not a man to brook interference. 1 feel quite as you do about it, 
my dear Arundel, but really 1 don’t see that 1 can do anything that 
would be of the slightest use.” 

” Surely you can find out the giil, and prove to her the truth ot 
my statement, that your brother has deceived her by assuming your 
name: you owe that to yourself.” 

” She would be certain to tell him of it the next lime slie sees 
him,” relumed Leicester uneasily; ‘‘ il would lead to a quarrel be- 
tween us, and you don’t know wlial Bellefield’s resentment is when 
it’s once excited— it’s actually terrific, and that’s the truth.” 

” But for your cousin. Miss Grant’s sake, you ought not to let 
your brother proceed with this affair,” urged Lewis; ” surely you 
must see the matter iu this light?” 


184 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


“All! poor Annie,’" returned Leicester, 'with a half “I 

sometimes wish tiiat engap^emeut had never been entered into. 1 
tloubl whether they are at all calculated to render eacli otlier happy. 
In fact, I’ve learned to 1< ok upon marriage in a very diftereut light 
lately— however, it’s no business of mine; wiser heads will have to 
settle it, luckily — ” He paused, and after a few nioments’ deliber- 
ation, resumed abruptl^^, “ I’ll do as you advise, Arundel. I’ll see 
this girl, and talk to her, and it liellefield hears of it, and makes 
himself disagree able, why, it can’t be helped, that's all. . He should 
not attempt such things — particularly in this neighborhood. Me 
ought to have more respect for the general and his daughter; it 
shows a want of good taste and good feeling; besides, as well as I 
can judge from the glimpse 1 had of her in the refreshment room, 
the girl’s not so unusually pretty after all. She’d an awful pair of 
hands, if 1 recollect right.’’ 

A cnntemptuous smile passed across Lewis’s handsome features 
as his companion promulgated the above Drigiual distinction. Leices- 
ter, however, did not observe it, and continued: 

“ Just fancy rny coming out in the character of a virtunus mentor. 
1 only hope 1 shall gel tlirough iny arduous duties without laughing 
at my own pc rformance. ’Pon my word, though, it’s rather seiious, 
wdien a mau feels inclined to scofl at himself for doing his duty from, 
the sheer inconsistency of the thing. 1 tell you what, zVrundel. 1 
believe I’ve been a very naughty boy without in the least knowing 
it. I’ve alwa 3 's considered niyselt the victim of circumstances, unci 
set all mv peccadilloes down to that account— but 1 don’t see why I 
need bother 5 mu by making you my father confessor.” 

Lewis, considering ihe train of thought into which Leicester had 
fallen one likely to lead to useful practical results, was about to en- 
courage him to proceed, when a servant approached them, and 
placed a small, crumpled, and not overcleaii piece of paper in 
Lewis’s hand. Holding it under the light of a lamp, he was enabled 
with difficulty to decipher the following words: 

“ To Muster Arundel,— «ur, the parly as you knows of is 
bout to-night, and more of his sort along with him. Vear3sate 
tor a shindy; but being quite ready for ther blackguards, lives in 
good 'opes hof a capture — bin which hif you likes to assist, net 
minding a crack o’ ihe head, should sich occur, which w’ill some- 
times in ther best regerlated famurlies, pleas to follur ther bearer as 
will conduct you to your humbel servaunt to commarnd, 

“ J. Millar.” 

“ ThaUs glorious!” exclaimed Lewis, placing the missive in itie 
hands of Ids companion; “ I never did catch a poacher in my life, 
but I’ve often wished to do so— the whole scene must be so pictur- 
esque and unlike anything one has ever met witli— the darkness, the 
excitement — but you are laughing at my eagerness. ^Yell, 1 confess 
to a love of adventure for its ovvn sake; it I’d lived in the middle 
ages I should have been a knight -errant, that’s certain. 1 suppose 
it’s no use asking you to join us? there’s metal more attractive in 
the drawing-room, n'est ce pas?’' 

“ Why,” returned Charley, arrang’ng his neckcloth by aid of a 


LEWIS AIIUXDEL. 


185 


glass placed in tlie cloak-room for Ihe benefit of the ladies who 
wished to w^rap up l)econiino;ly ; “really,! must own, I jirelei 
Laura’s smiles even to the delights ot a possible rencontre with 
yoiji triend Mr. What’s-his name the poacher.” 

“Hardy is tlie fellow’s name,” replied Lewis; “ he is a chartist 
and all sorts of honors, so that I don’t feel the smallest degree of 
syinpalhy tor him. Do you know where the numeral is to be loiind? 
I suppose, as 1 may be very late, or even obliged lo sleep at Millar’s 
cottage, 1 must ask his sanction ere I start on my expedition.” 

“ I think you’d better,” returned Leicester; “ he’s in the library 
—I saw him go there after he had seen l^ady Riinnymede to her 
carriage. So good-night — 1 shall be curious lo learn in the morning 
wiiose brains have been knocked out;” and with this agreeably sug- 
gestive remark Leicester ended the conversation, and strolled olT lo 
the drawing-room. 

l^ewis proceeded at once to the library wiiere he found not only 
General Grant, but, to Ins extreme annoyance, Lord Bellefield also; 
there was, however, no help tor it, and he accordingly explained 
his wishes as brietly as possible. The general heard him to the 
€11(1 witliout speaking. His first idea was that siicli a recpiest W’as 
strange and uniiecoming the peaceful gravil}" that slioiild environ 
the oiiice of a tutor, and he intended to favor him with a dignified 
xetusal; but as Lewis proceeded, his eager tones and sj)arkliug eyes 
recalled to the old olficei tlie days of his yotilh, w hen the spirit of 
imteiprise was strong within him, and in the wild bivouac, the dash- 
ing assault, the hand-to-hand sliuggle “ i’ the imminent deadl)^ 
breach,” and the many exciting vicissiiudes of a campaigning life, 
lie had found a degree of pleasure wiiich his age kuew^ not, and he 
was fain to accord a gracious assent. 

“ Your father was a soldier, Mr. Arundel, 1 think you (old me?” 
Lewis replied in the aflirmalive. mentioning some en:;ageinent in 
which lie had paiticiilaiiy distinguished himself. The general 
listened to him witii complacenc}", then exclaimed: 

“That’s it, sir, lliat’s ill I confess when I fii si heard your re- 
quest 1 considered it uunatural, in fact, unbecoming in a civilian, 
but in a soldier’s son it assumes an entirely difierent character. I 
like to see spirit in a young man.” (Here lie glancca at Lord Belle- 
field. vvho. apparently engrossed by a legal document wdiich lie wuis 
perusing, seenied unconscious of i^ewds’s presence. “It’s a pity 
your father was unable to aflord you a commission, there’s been 
some very pretty fighting in Lidia lately, and you might have dis- 
tinguished yourself.” lie paused, then added, “I know most ot 
tlie agricultural laborers about here; did INIillar tell you an}" of these 
poacliers’ names?” 

“ Hardy, a blacksmith, w"aF. the most notorious character,” re- 
turned Lewds. 

As he mentioned the name, Lord Bellefield started so violently 
that he nearly overturned the lamp by wdiich he vras reading. See- 
ing the genei’al’s eyes fixed on him in 'piiringly, he rose, and putting 
his hand to his side, drew a deep breath, as he exclaimed: 

“ One of tliose sharp stitches, as they call ihem— nothing w’orse. 
You know I am subject to them: it’s want of exercise, producing 
indigestion. 1 tell you wbat,” he continued, “ I’vo rather a curios- 


186 


LEWIS AllUNDEL. 


ity to witness INlr. Aniuders prowess, and see wdiat sport this poacher 
will afford. Man-lnmtio", in the literal ferm natuvm sense of the 
term, will be a new excitement.” 

“ We’ll all go,” exclaime«l the general, springing up with the 
aleitness of a young man; ” if these rascals chouse to trespass on 
my land and destroy my property, w^ho so fit to resist them and 
bring them to justice as myself? I'll make the necessary alteration 
in my dress, and we’ll start immediately.” 

Lord Bellefield urged the lateness of the hoiii, the cold night- 
air; the c ance of danger to life or limb— but in vain: General 
Grant had taken the crotchet into his head, and he was not the man 
to be easily induced to change his niind. Accordingly liCwis founel 
himself suddenly associated with two as strange companions as 
ever a man was embarrassed withal. Still there was no lielp lor it; 
and inwaidly pondering wdiat possible reason Lord Bellefield could 
have for joining the expedition, and wdiy he had started at the men- 
tion of Hardy’s name, Lewis hastened to w'rap himself in a rough 
pea-jacket, and selected a heavy knotted stick, wherewith he pro- 
posed to knock respect tor the rights of property into the head of 
any misguided individual who might be deaf to all milder argument. 
As he returned to the hall, the general made his appearance, carry- 
ing und( r his arm a cavalry saber; his bearing was even more stiff 
and erect than usual, and iiis eye flashed with all the fire of youth. 

‘‘ Early on parade, 1 see, Mr. Arundel,” he said, with something 
more nearly approacliing to a smile on his countenance than Lewis 
had ever previously observed there; ‘‘ we’ll read these poaching ras- 
cals a lesson they will not easily forget, sir.” 

As he spoke, a light footstep wuis heard approaching, and in an- 
other moment Annie Gram bounded down the staircase, her glossy 
curls streaming wdldly over her shoulders, and her cheeks flushed 
with the speed at which she had come. 

” JMy dear papa!’" she began, then turning pale as her eye fell 
upon the sw’ord she continued: ” Oh ! it is ready true! 1 hoped they 
w'ere only deceiving me in jest. Dearest papa, you will be good and 
kind, and not go out after these men? Suppose any accident should 
occur? Think how valuable your life is— papa, you will not go?” 

” Annie, 1 thought you were perfectly aware of my extreme dis- 
like to or, 1 may say, disapproval of all uncalled-for displavs of 
feeling; I am about to perform a duty incumbent on my position, 
and 1 need scarcely add that any attempt to induce im? to neglect 
that duty will not only prove ineffectual, but will be highly displeas- 
ing to me. Not another word,” he continued, seeing she was about 
to resume her entreaties; ” return immediately to the drawing-room 
and apologize to our friends in my name for being obliged to leave 
them.” 

At this moirent a servant announced that his master’s shooting 
pony wuvs ot the door, and that Lord Bellefield had already started; 
so, placing liis hat on his head w ith an air of offended aignil 3 ^ the 
general marched proudly out of the hall. Lewis was about to fol- 
low him, wiien, glancing at Annie, he perceived that she had sunk 
into a chair, and covering her face with her hands, had given way 
to an irrepressible burst of tears. The 3 "oung tutor paused — wishing 
to reassure her by promising to use liis best efforts to shield her fa- 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


187 


tlier from dun^er, and yet fearing to intrude upon her grief. In his 
embarrassment he accidentally dropped his stick. Starling at the 
sound, Annie for the first time perceived him, and springing up, 
she came hurriedly toward him, exclaiming: 

“ Oh, Mr. Arundel! I am so glad you are going. You will take 
care of papa, will you not?” 

As she spoke, she laid her hand on his arm, and gazed up into 
his face imploringly. 

“ 1 will most assuredly try to do so, Miss Grant,” returned Lewis 
calmly, though that light touch thrilled through him liKc a siiock of 
electricity. ” You need not alarm yourself so greatly,” he contin- 
ued, anxious to soothe her; believe me, your apprehensions have 
greatly exaggerated any probable danger.” 

” You really think so?” returned Annie doubtfully. ” At all 
events,” she continued, ‘‘ 1 shall be much happier now 1 know you 
are going; I am sure you will try and lake care of papa.” 

” I will, indeed,” returned Lewis earnestly, as, glancing toward 
the door, he essayed to depart; but Annie completely engrossed by 
her anxiety to secure his services on her father 's behalf, stiJl uncon- 
sciously retained her hold on his arm, and Lewis was obliged gently 
to remove the little hand that detained liim. 

As their fingers met, Annie, becoming suddenly aware of what 
Miss Livingstone would have termed her ” indiscreet and unpaidon- 
a'ble lieedlessness,” blushed very becomingl}'': then, with a sudden 
impulse ot gratitude and warm feeling, she extended her hand to 
Lewis, saying: 

’‘Thank you very much for all your kindness, Mr. Arundel. 
Mind you take good care ot yourself as well as of papa— 1 shall not 
go to bed till I hear you have brought him safe home again.” 

Lewis pressed the fair hand offered to him, repeated his assurance 
that her alarm was unnecessary, and hastened to follow General 
Grant. Annie gazed after him with tearful eyes; but his words, 
comforted her. She had begun already to rely on him in moments 
of difficulty or danger. 


CHAPTER NXIX. 

IS CHIEFLY CULINARY, CONTAINING RECIPES FOR A ** GOOD PRE- 
SERVE ” AND A “PRETTY PICKLE.” 

The moon was shining brightly, though’ flitting clouds passed 
from time to time across its silvery disk, wrapping wood and hill 
and valley in momentary darkness, only to enhance their beauty 
when its pale cold rays once more fell uninterruptedly upon them, 
imparting to the scene the magic of a fairy twilight. Such, how- 
ever, were scarcely Lewis’s thoughts as, haunted by the appealing 
expression of Annie’s soft eyes, he hastened to overtake his com- 
panions. The party proceeded in silence, following their guide, 
who was none other than the renegade Yilliam, across one of the 
wildest portions of the park toward a young larch plantation, cover- 
ing about forty acres of ground. This spot, named Tod’s Hole 
Spinney, from ceitaiu fox earths that had existed in it till their 
•occupant’s partiality for dining on pheasants had led to their eject- 


188 


LEWIS AKUXDEL. 


nient, was considered, from its isolated situation, the thick growth 
of underwood, the fact of a running stream passing through it, and 
other propitious circumstances, the most amply stocked preserve on 
the property; and it was with a degree of annoyance proportioned 
to the enormity of the offense that the general learned that this was 
the place selected by the poachers for the scene of their depreda- 
tums. As they approached the spot a report of a gun was heard, 
followed by three or four others in rapid succession. General Grant, 
irritated beyond control by this audacity, immediately rode forwanl 
at a brisk trot. Lewis, bearing in mind Annie’s injunction, grasped 
the crupper of the saddle firmly with his left hand, and wiih this 
slight assistance ran by the geueraEs side, keeping pace with the 
horse. In this manner they had nearly reached the wood, when a 
man sprung fiom behind a bush, and would have seized the horse's 
bridle had not Lewis interposed, saying in a low voice, “Don’t 
you Know us, IMillai? it is General Grant, who, when he heard the 
poichers were out, determined to come with me.” 

“1 beg yei* honor’s pardon,” returned the keeper, touching his 
hat, as lie recognized his master. “ 1 never expected to ha’ seen 
you here to night, to be sure.” 

“ 1 am usually found where my duty calls me,” returned the 
general stiffly. “These scoundrels seem to be out in force,” he 
continued, 

“Veil, 1 take it there’s as many on ’em as ve shall know wot to 
do with,” v/as the reply, “ but I’ve got above a dozen men on the 
look bout, only in course they’re scattered,” 

“ And how do you propose to act?” inquired the general. 

“ 1 thort of taking a party into the wood, trying to captiwate long 
Hardy and one or two of the ringleaders, chaps as I’ve had my eye 
on tor ever so long; then take their game from the tothers, and 
seize their guns hit posserbul; but the chief thing is to capliwate 
that wilhtin, Hardy; so I means to leave three or four men on the 
look-hout, in case he manages to do us, and break cover.” 

“ Your plan seems a good one,” returned tiie general reflectively. 
“ How many men do you propose to take into the wood with you?” 

“ Veil, there’s hall a dozen lads laying down behind those bushes 
yonder, and there’s two more jist inside that gap; and there’s my- 
self and Muster Arundel.” 

“ Let the boy that guided us hold my horse,” began General 
Grant. 

“Hit 1 might adwise,” interrupted Millar, “ yer honor would 
remain bin Ibis wery place; and hit Ilard}^ should get aw\ay from us 
— as he’s likely enough, for he’s as strong as a young steam ingine — 
he’s a’most sure to break cover here, in vich case j^er honor can 
ride him down, and hif he dares to show fight, give him a cut hover 
the Skull with yer long sword there.” 

“ You feel sure he will endeavor to effect his retreat on this side?” 
inquired the general doubtingly. 

“ Sartain sure, I may say,” cried Millar confidendy; then as his 
master turned to explain to Lord Bellefield, who had just come up. 
the plan of operations, he added in a low voice so that Lewis only 
might hear: 

“ The old master’s plucky enough for anything, but his legs ain’t 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


189 


SO young as they used to be, and he’s rather touched in the vind, 
7ich von’t do tor sich a valk rs we’ve got before us.” 

At this moment more shots were heard in the wood, but ap- 
parently much nearer than the last: the poachers were evidently ad- 
vancing in that direction. 

“ There is not a moment to be lost, Mibar,” exclaimed the general 
eagerly. ” 1 think, as you say, 1 may be of more use here; some 
one must remain outside to cut cff the retreat ot these fellows if you 
should succeed in driving them out of the wood. Lord Bellefleld 
will accompany your party. Where are the other w^atchers on this 
side stationed?” 

• ” About fitly yards apart, along the ditch skirting the w'ooci. If 
yer honor wants help, a note on this whistle will produce it.” 80 
sa 3 dng, Millar handed him an ivory dog-whistle then signing to 
Villiam to proceed, and requesting Lord Belletield and Lewis to 
follow him, the keeper conducted them along a uarrovr track lead- 
ing into the w’ood. ” Do you really expert that Haidy will atlf rnpt 
to cross that part of the park, 01 w^as your assertion merelv a w’hile 
lie, framed to secure the general’s safety?” asked Lewis as he 
walked by the keeper’s side. 

” Yell, it wornt altogether a lie, w^as the reply; “ for if we don’t 
nab the gentleman that’s the side he’ll try for, as it’s easiest for him 
to get away; but if 1 vonce has a fair hit, 1 don’t mean to leave him 
a chance to get away. J shall not stand nice about hurling hira 
neither, 1 can tell yer. He beat Sam Jones, one o’ my hunder- 
keepers, so savage that the poor fellow worn’t out of his blessed 
bed for two months. He deserves summut pretty strong for that.” 

” Mind you point him out to me if you catch sight ot him,” re- 
joined Lewis; ‘‘ 1 am most anxious to be introduced to this trucu- 
lent gentleman.” 

” Yer can’t mistake him hif yer once sets eyes on him,” returned 
the keeper; “he’s half a head -taller than any of the rest of ’em; 
but I’ll show him to yer.” 

As he spoke, they reached the spot where the six men were wait- 
ing, though so well had they concealed themselves that Lewds was 
close upon them ere he was aware ot their vicinity’. 

‘‘Kow, my lads, are you all ready?” inquired their leader in a 
low voice; an answer in the atfirmative was followed by the order: 
‘‘Come on, then;” when Lord Bellefield interposed by saying; 
” One moment! listen to me, iny men ; 1 offer five guineas reward 
to any ot 3^11 who may secure Hardy— you understaud me?” 

” We’ll try our best, my lord, and many thanks to your lord- 
ship,” replied a strong athletic young fellow in the dress of an 
uuderkeeper; and the others made a like acknowledgment. After 
a strict injunction from Millar to preserve silence, the party again 
moved forward. Lord Bellefield, ^Millar, and Lewis in front, and 
the others following two abreast. As soon as they entered the 
wood, the two' remaining men joined them, making altogether a 
company of eleven. As they advanced further into the plantation 
the boughs of the trees, becoming thicker and more closely inter- 
laced, intercepted the moonlight and rendered their onward progress 
a matter of some difticulty. The gamiCkeeper, however, Knew every 
intricacy of the path, and could have found his wa 3 ' iu the darkest 


190 LEAVIS ARUNDEL. 1 

jiighl as easily as at noonday. After winding among the trees for 'i 

some minutes, they came upon a little glade where the unaerwood \ 

had been partially cleared away and a small quantity of barley 
stacked for the purpose of feeding the pheasants. At the entrance 
to this space thus cleared the party halted, and IMillar, creeping for- " 

ward on his hands and knees, reached the stack. Sheltering him- 
self behind this, he made his way to the opposite side, where he , 

was lost to sight; re-appearing almost immediately, he cautiously 
rejoined his party, saying in a low whisper: “ 1 expected how it 
would be; there is from twenty to thirty pheasands roosting on the 
trees beyond the stack there, and Hardy and his mates being aware, 
on it, is a-making of their way through the bushes right ahead. 1 
could hear ’em plain enough when 1 was at the stack yonder. Now, 
two on yer must come along o’ me, creep to the stack and hide be- 
hind it as yer see me do, then vait till them blackguards has let fly 
at the pheasands, and afore they can load again ve thr(^ must jump 
foirard and try and take Hardy; in the meantime, you others naist 
make yer way round through the bushes and take ’em in the rear, 
and help us it we w^ants lielping.” 

“ Which you will do most certainly,” returned Lord Bellefleld. 

“ i'll lead the party that remains.” 

” And I’ll go with you, Millar,” observed Lewis. 

” And you, Sam,” continued Millar, addressing the underkeeper 
before alluded to. The man came forward, and placing himself by 
Lewis’s side the three crept along till they had reached the stack, 
sheltered by which they again stood upright. Scarcely had they 
taken their places when two guns, followed b}^ four others, were 
discharged in rapid succession, and so close to them that the shot 
pattering among the underwood was distinctly audible, and one of 
the wounded pheasants dropped at Lewis’s feet; while almost im- 
mediately afterward a couple of men ran forward to collect the 
fallen game. The foremost of these was a fellow ol Herculean pro- 
portions; as he stooped to pick up a pheasant a ray of moonlight re- 
vealed his features, and Lewis immediatel}^ recognized his former 
antagonist, the tall chartist. At the same moment Millar whis- 
pered, '* That’s our man; go ahead!” 

” Leave him to me,” returned Lewis eagerly; and bending for- 
ward, with a bound like that of a tiger, he si rung upon him. 

The poacher was taken so completely by surprise (bis back being 
turned toward his assailant) that Lewis, encircling him with a grasp 
of iron, was enabled to pinion his arms to his sides. Like a wild 
hull caught in the toils, his struggles to free himself w^ere tremen- 
dous; but Lewis, now in tlie full vigor of his strength, was an ad- 
versary not easily to be shaken oft; and despite his unrivaled 
powers, the poacher failed to extricate his arms. Shouting, there- 
fore, to his companion for assistance, he desired him, with an oath, 

to shoot the keeper; but that individual was unable to comply 

Willi his comrade’s bene7olent suggestion, by reason of certain well- 
directed hits wherewith Sam Jones, the undeikeeper, was producing 
a marked alteration in the general outline of his features. In the 
meantime Millar, drawu'ng forth a [)iece of cord, began coolly to tie 
Hardy’s wrists together, disregarding a series of ferocious kicks with 
which he greeted him. At this moment the other poachers, to the 


LEWIS ARUKI3EL. 


191 


number of some half dozen, attracted by the sound of blows, reached 
the scene of action, but the party led by Lord Bellefield were equally 
on the alert, and the fight became general. And now the capture of 
the poacner Hardy appi ared certain; exhausted by his untivailing 
struggles to free himself from Lewis’s encircling arms, he could 
offer no effectual resistance to Millar, who continued most method- 
ically to bind his wrists, in no way diverted from his purpose by 
the storm of blows which raged around him, many of which fell on 
his unprotected person— when suddenly the report of a pistol rantc 
sharply above tlie other sounds of the combat, and an acute sting- 
ing pain darted througb Lewu's’s left shoulder, causing him surli 
agony for the moment that be involuntarily relaxed his grasp. Hardy 
was not slow to avail himself of the opportunity thus offered; fling- 
ing off the young tutor with so much violence that he would have- 
fallen had not one of the gamekeeper’s assistants caught him and 
prev(‘nted it, he wrenched his hands from Millar’s grasp, and raising 
them, still V-^und together as they were, slrucR the keeper such a 
severe blow on the side of the bead that lie reeled and fell; then, 
seeing that bis companions, oveipotvered by numbers and disheart- 
ened by liis supposed capture, were giving way on all sides, he 
turned, and dashing into the bushes, disappeared, not so quickly, 
however, but that Lewis, who had never taken bis eyes oft him for 
a moment, perceived the movement. 

Grasping bis stick, which he bad contrived to retain during the 
struggle, firmly with his right hand, he lost no lime in following 
the fugitive, and guided by the crashing of the bushes, kept close 
on his traces till they reached the boundary hedge. Breaking his 
way through this obstacle, with the strength and fury of some wild 
animal, the poacher sprung across the ditch into the opin park be- 
yond. Seeing that he bad a desperate man to deal with, and fear- 
ing that, all bough the first severe pain had abated, and little more 
than a sensation of numbness remained, his left arm might prove 
in some degree incapacitated by the wound be bad received, Lewis 
paused a moment to reconnoiter ere he followed him. To his grtat 
delight he perceived he had reached the hedge along the side of 
which the watchers were stationed, near the spot where General 
Grant had taken up his position. Hardy, unconscious how closely 
he was tollowed, slopped also a moment, while he endeavored to 
set free his wrists; but so securely had Millar bound them that, ai- 
tboiigh by a violent exertion of strength he coiiliived to render the 
cord slacker, he was unable wholly to" succeed in his object. Fear- 
ing, however, that the cord would not hold out much longer, and 
unwilling to lose the only advantage gained by his previous struggle, 
Lewis determined once more to endeavor to seize him. Shouting, 
Iberctore, to give notice to the watchers where their assistance was 
likely to be required, he sprung across the ditch and advanced to- 
ward his antagonist. At first the poacher appeared inclined lo stand 
his ground; but seeing bis opponent was armed wdth a stout slick, 
and recollectimr bis own defenseless condition, he resolved to trust 
rather to his unrivaled fleetness, and turning away with an exclama- 
tion of disappointed rage, again betook himself to flight. This por- 
tion of the park was clear of trees or any other cover for a space of 
more than half a mile square, beyond which lay another larger 


192 


LE^yIS ARUis^DEL. 


•wood ; if Hardy could coulrive to reach this, his escape would be- 
come a matter of certainty. The ground, which had once formed 
part of an ancient Homan camp, lay in terraces, and this circuin- 
stance gave Hardy, wlio Knew every inch of the country by heart, 
a slight advantage. In speed they were very equally matched; for 
although Lewis, from his youth and light, active make, was, per- 
haps, really the fleetest, Hardy was in better training. AVhen they 
first started, the poacher was about ten 3^ard8 ahead, and they had 
reached nearly halt the center of the space between the two woods 
ere Lewis had dirninislied that distance materiall}". Hitherto they 
had been running uphill, and the poacher’s superior condition (as 
a joocke}’^ would term it) enabled him to continue his rapid course 
without the pace telling as much as it did on his pursuer; hut now^ 
the ground began to descend, and Lewis, having saved liimself lor 
a short distance to recover breatli, put forth liis whole powers, and 
despite tire utmost exertions the poacher was capable of making, 
gained upon him so fast that it was evident that in a few more 
si rides he must overtake him. But Hardy’s usual good luck ap- 
peared not even yet to liave deserted him, for at the very moment 
•wlien it seemed certain Lewis must come up wiih him, a cloud ob- 
scured the moon, and the poaclier, taking advantage of this accident 
to double on his pursuer, contrived to make such good use of 
his knowledge of the ground that when the briglit moonlight 
again enabled Lewis to discern his retreating figure, he perceived, 
to his extreme chagrin and disappointment, that the fugitive 
would gain the wood, and doubtless effect hiK escape, before 
he could agaiu oreitake him. It W'as then, with no small satis- 
faction that, just as he was about to give up the chase as hopeless, 
lie caught s ght ot a man on horseback galloping in a direction 
which must effectually cut off the poacher’s retreat. Another mo- 
ment sutficed to show him that the rider, in whom he immediately 
recognized General Grant, had perceived the fugitive, and intended 
to prevent his escape. Lewis accord ingl}^ strained every nerve to 
reach the spot in time to render assistance, more particular!}^ as he 
remarked that Hardy had by some means contrived to set his hands 
at liberty. In spite of his utmost exertions, however, it was evi- 
dent that the encounter would take place betoi’e he could arrive; 
and remembering his promise to Annie, it was with mingled feel- 
ings ot anxiety for her father’s safely and self-reproach for having 
quitted him, that he prepared to witness the struggle. As soon as 
the general perceived the state ot affairs, he waved his hand as a 
sign to Lewis; and then drawing his saber, stood up in his stirrups 
and rode gallantly at the poacher, shouting to him at the same lime 
to stop and yield himself prisoner. Hardy paid no attention to the 
summons, continuing to run on until he lelt the horse’s breath hot 
upon his neck; then, as General Grant, after again calling on him to 
“ surrender, or he would cut him down,” prepared to j :ut his threat 
into execution, he dodged aside to avoid the blow, and springing 
suddenly upon the rider, dashed the sword from his liand, and 
seizing him by Hie tliroat, endeavored to drag him oft liis liorse. 
The old man, though taken by surprise, clung firmly to his saddle, - 
and spurring his horse, tried to shake off his assailant, hut his 
strength, un tor tu irately, was not equal to his courage, and the 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


193 


poacher, snatching at the rein, backed the horse till it reared al- 
most erect, and flung its rider forcibly to the ground. Apparently 
bent on revenge. Hardy, still retaining his grasp on the bnale, led 
the horse over the body of the fallen man, with the brutal intention 
of trampling him to death. But the generous instinct of the animal 
served to frustrate his evil purposes; as, though he led it twice 
directly across its prostrate master, the horse raised its feet, and 
carefully avoided treading on him. Striking the animal ferociously 
on the liead with his clinched fist, he next attempted to back it in 
the same direction, but the frightened animal sprung aside, and 
plunged so violently that he wus unable to eflect his design. He 
w'as still striving to do so when Lewis, breathless with the speed at 
which he had run, reached the spot. Instantly leaping over the 
fallen man, slick in hand, he struck Hardy so severe a*btow on the 
wrist that he was forced to quit his hold on the bridle, and the 
scarced liorse broke away and galloped oft, snorting with terror. 
Tlie poacher, infuriated by the pain of the blow, forgot all prudential 
considerations; and heedless of the approach of three of the watch- 
ers, who, attracted by the noise of the struggle, were rapidly Iiasten- 
iug toward the spot, he rushed iipou Lewis, and disregarding a heavy 
blow with wliicli the young tutor greeted him, flung iiis arms 
around him, and endeavored to dash him to the ground. Poitunate- 
ly for Lewis, he was not ignorant of the manly exercise of wrest- 
ling, and his proficiency in the art stood him in good stead at this 
moment; for, despite his gigantic strength, Hardy could not suc- 
ceed in throwing him. In vain did he lift him from the ground — 
with wdiatever violence he replaced him, he still fell upon his legs; 
in vain did he compress him in his powerful arms, till Lewis felt as 
if every rib were giving way — the only eftect of iiis exertions v as 
to exhaust his own strength; till at length, taking advantage of an 
incautious movement of his adversary, the young tutor contriveil to 
pass his leg behind tliat of the poacher, and thus trip him up. His 
victory was, however, nearly proving fatal to him; for, in falling, 
the ruffian clutched him by the throat, and dragged him down with 
him. Nor, although Lewds being uppermost was enabled to raise 
himself on one knee, and return the compliment by inserting his 
hand within the folds of his adversary’s neckcloth, could be force 
him to relinquish his grasp. Fortunatey, help was at hand; and 
just as Lewis began to feel that it was becoming serious, and that 
it the pressure on his throat continued much longer, he should be 
strangled outright, the three assistants came up; two of them im- 
mediately flung themselves upon the poacher, while the third 
dragged Lewis, who was rapidly getting exhausted, from the dead- 
ly embrace of his prostrate foe. Having with some difficulty suc- 
ceeded in so doing, the man laid him at full length on the grass, 
and leaving him to recover as best he might, turned to assist his 
companions to secure Hardy. This was now a comparatively easy 
task, for his final struggle with Lewis had exhausted even the 
poacher’s strength, and after a futile attempt to rise and shake oft 
his captors, he ceased to resist, and submitted, in sullen silence, 
while his arms w^ore secured with the general’s sword-belt. This 
operation concluded, the man who had rescued Lewds returned to 
him, and found him sufficienlly recovered to sit up. 


194 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 

“Have you looked to the. general? is he uninjured?” was his 
first question. 

“ I’m afear’d he’s terrible hurt, it he ain’t killed outright; least- 
ways he’s onsensibul; and one of his arms seems cruslied liRe,” was 
the consolatory reply.<? 

“ Oh, that 1 had come up a minute sooner!” exclaimed lewis, in 
a tone of biiter self-reproach. 

“ You had been a dead man if yer had, sir,” was the repl}^ “ if 
that willain there had had hold of your throat half a minute longer, 
you’d have been as stiff as a leg of mutton by ibis time.” 

“ Better that 1 had perished lhan that this ‘should have occurred,” 
murmured Lewis; then turning to llie man, he xjpntinued, ” Lend 
me your arm; 1 can walk new;” and rising with ‘difficulty, he ad- 
vanced toward the spot where General Grant lay. He was perfectly 
insensible; his hat had fallen off, and his gray hair, exposed to the 
night dews, imparted, as the moonlight streamed on rt, a gliastljf ex- 
pression to his features; while his right arm was bent under him in 
an unnatural position, which left no doubt that it must be broken, 
probably in more places than one. Lewis knelt down beside him, 
and raising his uninjured hand, placed his finger on the wrist. 

” 1 can feel his pulse beat clislinctl3\” he observed, after a mo- 
ment’s pause; ‘‘ he is not dead, nor dying —indeed, except the in- 
jury to his arm, 1 hope he may not be seriously hurt. No time 
must be lost in carrying him to the house and procuring a surgeon. ” 

“ Somebody ought to go to Broadhursl, to let ’em know what’s 
happened, and get us some help. We’ve more than we can manage 
here, you see,” urged the assistant; “ it will take two on us to pur- 
went that blackguard, Hardy, from getting away —he won’t lose no 
chance, you ma}^ depend.” 

‘‘I’ll stay with General Giant if you’ll run to the house,” re- 
turned Lewis feebly. 

” Your arm’s a bleeding, sir; did that willain stab you?” in- 
quired the assistant. 

” No; 1 was hurt in the wood,” was the reply. 

“ Do you think you could ride, sir?” continued the man; “cos 
it you could. I’d try and catch tin; liorse— he’s a grazin’ very quiet 
jmnder — and then you could go to the house, start oil one ot the 
grooms to tetch a doctor, send some of the people down here to 
help us, get yer own wound dressed, and break the news to tlie 
famil}^ better than such a chap as me.” 

This observation was a true one; and Lewis felt (hat it was so; 
therefore, although he dreaded the task, and would lather have 
again encountered the dangers he had just escaped than witnessed 
Annie Grant’s dismay and sorrow when she sliouhi fiuil her dark 
anticipations realized, he aL^reed to the arrangement; and as the 
men succeeded in catching the horse almost immediately, he moiint- 
ed with some difficulty, and rode off at speed, though the lapid 
motion increased the pain of his wound till it became almost insup- 
portable. He reached Broadburst in less than ten minutes, never 
drawing bit till he entered the stable-yard, although he turned so 
faint and dizzy on the wa}^ that more than once he was nearly fall- 
ing from the saddle. His first act was to dispatch a mounted gioom 
to procure a surgeon; he next sent off four of the men-servants with 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


195 


a hurdle, converted into an extemporary litter, eriving them exact 
directions where to find their master, a^id waiting to see that they 
started without loss of time; he then attempted to dismount, but 
was unable to do so without assistance;: having paused a few mo- 
ments, till the faintness had again gone oft, he entered the house by 
the servants* entrance, and calling the butler aside, desired him to 
summon Mr. Leicester as quietly as possible; then sinking into a 
chair, and resting his head on his Lands, he awaited his arrival with 
ill-concealed anxiety, dreading lest some incautious person should 
abruptly inform Annie of her'fatlier’s accident. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

LE^8 MAKES A DISCOVEllY AND GETS INTO A “STATE OF MIND.’* 

The end of the room at which Lewis had seated himself lay in 
shadow, so that Leicester, who shortly made his appearance wrapped 
in a dressing-gown, could merely distinguish the outline-of his figure. 

“ Why, Arundel,*’ he began, “ is anything the matter? Here has 
Wilson been and roused me out of my first sleep, with a tace like 
that of the party who ‘ drew Priam’s curtain i’ the dead o’ night.’ 
Where’s Governor Grant, and how is it that you’re home first?’’ 

“ It’s no joking matter, Mr. Leicester,’’ returned Lewis faintly, 
and without raising his head. “ The poachers have given us more 
trouble than we expected, and in attempting to capture Hardy, the 
general has been thrown from his horse. His right arm is broken 
in rwo places, and when I came away he was still insensible.’’ 

From the position in which Lewis sat (his elbows resdng on a 
taDle, and his forehead supported b}^ his hands) he was unable to 
perceive anything that might be going on in the apart Oicnt; conse- 
quenty he had continued his speech, ignorant that a third person 
had joined them. Annie (for she it was, who, pale as some midnight 
ghost, had glided noiselessly into the room) laid her hand on Leices- 
ter’s arm, to prevent his culling attention to her presence, while, 
eager and trembling, she listened to Lewis’s account of her father’s 
accident; and overcome, tor the moment, by these evil tidings, 
she remained speechless, leaning against a chair tor support. 
Lewis, surprised at Leicester’s silence, raised his head languidly, 
and the first object that met his eyes was Annie’s sinking figure. 
With an exclamation of dismay he attempted to start up, but he 
was becoming so weak from loss of blood that he tailed to accom- 
plish his purpose. Roused by the action, Annie recovered herself, 
and as a new idea struck her she asked: 

“ Where, then, is poor papa? Have they brouqht him home? 1 
must go to him instantly!” 

“ lie is not yet arrived, Miss Grant,” returned Lewis, in a low 
voice, that trembled with conflicting emotions; “ his own servants 
are carrying him, and a surgeon will be here instantly, i — “ he 
paused abruptly, for Annie, drawing herself up, advanced toward 
him and with flashing eyes exclaimed: 

“ Is this then the way in which you have fulfilled your promise, 
Jlr. Arundel? 1 trusted so implicitly to your assurance that you 


196 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


would watch over him and protect him ; and now you have not only 
failed him in the moment ot dauber, but deserted him in his necessi- 
ty, and secured your own sately by comini^ home to break iny heart 
with these evil tidings. Oh, 1 am ashamed ot you— grieved— dis- 
appointed!’* 

“ Hush, my dear Annie,” observed Leicester, sootiiingly. “ Arun- 
del might not be able to prevent this accident— you are too hast3^” 

“No! no!” returned Lewis, in a low, broken voice, “ 1 deserve 
her reproaches ; 1 ought never to have quitted him, and j^et 1 did so, 
believing that 1 left him in perfect safety. 1 could not bear to stand 
inactive, wJieu other men were about to face danger, and coolness 
and address were required; besides, 1 had pledged inyselt to assist 
in capturing this poacher.’’ He paused, then added, “ 1 have been 
to blame. Miss Grant, but 1 am not quite the poltroon you imagine 
me. 1 did, indeed, leave \mur father that 1 might accompany the 
attacking laiity into the wood, but 1 strained every nerve to come 
up with Hardy before General Grant encountered liim; and al- 
though that was impossible, I arrived in time to prevent him from 
forcing the boise to trample the life out of the fallen man, and, 
wounded as 1 was, i engaged with and captured, at tlie risk of my 
own life, the ruffian who had injured your father; nor should 1 have 
been here now but that it was necessary tor some one to procure as- 
sistance and summon a surgeon, and 1 rode here at speed to ni}^ 
own injury that 1 might leave a more efficient man with the gen- 
-eral.” 

As he ceased speaking the butler entered the room, bearing in 
his hand a lamp, and for the first time the light tell upon Lewis’s 
figure. Leicester, as he beheld him, uttered an exclamation of sur- 
prise and horror, which his appearance was well calculated to call 
forth. His face was deadly pale, save a red line across the forehead, 
where some bramble had torn the skin; his daik hair, heavy with 
the night dew, hung in wild disorder around his temples; and liis 
clotties, stained with mud, bore traces of the severity of tlie strug- 
gle in which lie had been engaged; the sleeve of his left arm, whicli 
still rested on the table, was soaked with gore, while the momentuiy 
excitement which hud a'nimjited him as he spoke had given way to 
a return ot the faintness, produced by the loss of blood, which wavS 
by this time very considerable. As this ghastly figure met her 
sight Annie utteied a slight shriek — then a sense of the cruel in- 
justice of her own reproaches banished every other consideration, 
and springing toivard him she exclaimed: 

“ Oh, Mr. Arundel, what can we do tor you? how shocked, how 
grieved 1 am! — will you, can you foririve me?” 

Lewis smiled and attempted to reply, but the words died away 
upon his lips, and, completely overcome by faintness he would 
have fallen from the chair liad not Leicester supported him. Fort- 
unately, at lliis moment the surgeon arrived, and Annie quilting 
the apartment, Lewis’s sleeve was cut open, his wound temporarily 
hound up. and his temples bathed with some stimulating essence 
which dispelled his faintness, before the surgeon’s serv^ices were 
required for General Grant. The latter gentleman liad recovered 
consciousness ere he reached Bioadhurst, and though sufLering 
acute pain from his broken arm, appeared cool and collected. His 


LEWIS ARUTOEL. 


197 


first question had been “ whether Hardy had escaped/' and he 
seemed to revive from the moment he was informed of his capture. 
His next inquiry was, who had taken him, and on learninst it was 
Lewis, he was much pleased, muttering, “ Brave lad, brave lad, 
pity he’s not in the army.’' He recognized Annie, and spoke 
kindly to her, gave orders for the sate custody of Hardy, demanded 
of the surgeon who examined his arm whether he wished to ampu- 
tate it, as he felt quite equal to the operation, and in short, under 
circumstances which would have overpowered any man of less 
firmness of character, behaved like a gentleman and a brave old 
soldier, as he was. Fortunately, the surgeons (for a second, at- 
tracted by the rumor of an accident, as vultures are it a camel dies 
in the desert, had come to test the truth of the old proverb that two 
heads are better than one) succeeded in setting the arm, pro- 
nounced amputation unnecessary, and, after careful examination, 
gave it as their opinion that, with the exception of a few contusions 
of little consequence, the general had sustained no further injury. 
Having come to tliis satisfactory conclusion they found time again 
to direct their attention to Lewis. After much whispered consulta- 
tion and considerable exchange of learned winks and profound 
nods, they informed him that he had been wounded by a shot from 
a pistol (which, by the way, he could have told them) and that they 
had very little doubt that the ball remained in the wound, in which 
case it would be necessary to extract it; to this Lewis replied, “ The 
sooner the better*. ” Accordingly, they proceeded to put him to great 
agony, by probing the wound to find the ball, after which they 
hurt him still more in extracting it, performing both operations 
with such easy cheerfulness of manner and utter disregard of the 
patient’s feelings, that a bystander would have imagined they were 
carving a cold shoulder of mutton rather than the same joint of live 
humanity. But surgeons, like fathers, have flinty hearts, un- 
macadamized by lilt smallest grain of pity far the wretched victims 
of their uncomfortable skill; their idea of the “whole duty of 
man “ being that he should afford them “an interesting case” 
when living, and become a “ good subject ” for them when he has 
ceased to be one to the queen. After the ball was extracted Levds 
requested it might be handed to him; it was small, and from its 
peculiar shape he perceived that it must have been discharged from 
a pistol with a rifle barrel. 

“ If you will allow me,” he said, “ 1 shall keep this bit of lead 
as a memorial of this evening’s entertainment.” 

“Oh, certainly,” replied the most cheerful surgeon, “by all 
means; if it had but gone an eighth of an inch further,” he added, 
rubbing his hands joyously, “ only an eighth of an inch, it would 
have injured the spinal cord, and you would have been — droll how 
these things occur sometimes— you’d have been paralyzed for life.” 

Lewis stiuddered, and wished devoutly he were, for the time be- 
ing, Caliph Haroun Alraschid, in which case the facetious surgeon 
would have added a practical acquaintance with the bastinado on 
the sole of the human tout to his other medical knowledge. 

“ 1 don’t think,” resumed the doctor, meditatively, “ 1 don’t 
think you need apprehend any very unpleasant result, as far as I 
can as yet see into the case. Of course,” he coutinued, witfi 


198 


LET^^IS ARUKDEL. 


hilarity, “ erysipelas mi^ht supervene, but that is seklom fatal, un- 
less it aftects the brain; and 1 should hope the great effusion ot 
blood will prevent that in the present instance. You teel very weak, 
don’t you?” 

Lewis replied in the afiiraiative, and his tormentor continued: 

“ Well, you need not be uneasy on that score; 1 don’t apprehend 
a return of syncope, but if you should feel an unnatural deficiency 
ot vital heat, or perceive any symptoms ot approaching collapse, 
1 would advise your ringing the" bell, and I’ll be 'srith you instant- 
ly. Scalpel’s obliged to be oft; he’s' got a very interesting broken 
leg— compound fracture — waiting for him down at the village, be- 
sides some dozen agreeable minor casualties, the result of to-night’s 
work. Keep up your spiiits, and go to sleep. Your shoulder is 
easier now?” 

“ It teels as if the blade of a red-hot sword were being constantly 
plunged into it,” returned Lewis, crossly. 

“ Delighted to hear it,” replied Dr. Bistoury, rubbing his hands; 
“ just what 1 could have wished; nothing inert there! 1 would 
recommend your bearing it ” (which word he pronounced bea-a-a- 
rhig) ” quietly, and rely upon my looking in the first thing to-mor- 
10 w.” So saying he rubbed his hands, chuckled, and departed. 

In spite ot his wound, which continued very painful, Lewis con- 
trived to get a tew hours' sleep, and awoke so much refreshed that 
he resisted all attempts to keep him in bed, and though stiff and 
weak to an excessive degree, made his way to the study, and 
cheated Walter out of the holiday he had expected, a loss which he 
scarcely regretted in his joy at finding that the wicked poachers 
had not seriously injured his dear Mr. Arundel. And then Annie 
could not be happy till she had caught Charles Leicester, and made 
him accompany her on a penitential visit to Lewis, to tell him how 
grieved she was at the recollection ot her injustice to him; — it 
seemed so dreadfully ungrateful when, in fact, he had just saved 
her father’s life; — and she looked so pretty, and good, and pure in 
her penitence, that Lewis began to think women were brighter and 
higher beings than his philosophy had dreamed of, and for the first 
time ii occurred to him that he had been guilty of an unpardona 
ble absurdity in despising the whole race ot womankind because he 
happened to have been jilted by a little roquettish, halt-educated 
German girl; ond he forgave Annie so fully in his heart that with 
his lips he could scarcely stammer out half a dozen unmeaning 
words to tell her so, Leicester asked him in the course ot the con- 
versation whether he had any idea which of the gang ot poachers 
had fired the pistol, adding that two others had been taken besides 
Hardy. Lewis paused for a moment ere he replied that his back had 
been turned toward the man who shot him, and that it was t( o seri- 
ous a charge to bring against any one without more certain knowl- 
erige than he possessed on the subject; and having said this he im- 
mediately changed the conversation. 

As soon as Annie and her cousin withdrew Millar the gamekeeper 
made his appearance, full of congratulations on Lewis’s gallant 
conduct and sympathy in regard to his wound. 

” 1 can’t imagine vich o’ the varmints could have had a pistol; it 
worn’t neither o’ Iher two as we captiwated, for 1 sarched ’em my- 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


199 


seif, and never a blessed harticle had tliey got about ’em, except 
tber usual amount o’ ’bacca and coppers bin ther breeches 
pockets.” 

‘‘ Did you have any more fighting after 1 left you to follow 
Hardy?” asked Lewis. 

‘‘ Veil, we did ’ave one more sharpish tuin,” was the leply; 
” when the blackguards see me down, they made a rush to recover 
the sack with the game, and almost succeeded, only Sam Jones 
pulled me out of the crowd and set me on my legs again, and 1 was 
so mad a-thinking that Hardy got clear away that 1 layed about me 
like one possessed, they do tell me; so we not only recovered the 
game, but bagged two o’ ther chaps therselves. By tlier bye,” he 
continued, ” Sam Jones come here vnth me; he wants to see 5 ^er 
when I’ve done with yer; he says he’s picked up somethin’ o’ yourn, 
but he won’t say what— he’s a close chap when he likes, is Sam; 
ho wsonr.de vei, 1 suppose he expects you’ll tip him a bob or so, for 
it was he as ketched yer when Hardy hret flung yerofl ; you’ve paid 
Mm for it sweetly, and no mistake; he’d got a lovely black heye, 
and his right WTist was swelled as big as two ven we maiched him hoff 

to H jail this morning. And now I’ll vish 5 'er good arternoon, 

JVlr. Arundel, and send Sam hup, if you’re agreeable.” 

Lewis, with a smile at tie equivocal nature of the phrase, signi- 
fied his agreeability, and the keeper took his departure; in another 
minute the sound of heavy lootsteps announced the approach of 
Sam. who, having obeyed Lewis’s injunction to ‘‘ come in,” vindi- 
cated his title to the attribute of ‘‘ closeness,” by carefully shulling 
the door, applying first his ear and then his eye to the key-hole, ere 
he could divest his cautious mind of a dread of eavesdroppers, lie 
then crossed the room on tiptoe, partly from a sense of the grave 
nature of his mysterious errand, partly from respect to the carpet, 
the richness of which oppressed him heavily during the whole ol his 
visit, restricting him to the use of one leg only the greater portion 
of the time. 

“You have found something of mine, Millar tells me,” began, 
Lewis, finding that his ghost-like visitor appeared to consider it a 
point of etiquette not to speak first. 

“ Aou're very Kind, Mr. Arundel,” returned his visitor, who, catch- 
ing sight at the moment of the gilt frame of an oil painting which 
hung over the chimney, and believing it firmly to be pure gold, be- 
came so overpowered between that and the carpet that he scaicel}’’ 
dared trust himself to speak in such an aristocratic atmosphere. 
“ I’m much obliged to you, sir; yes, 1 have found something, sir, 
out 1 don't know disactly as it’s altogether yourn.” 

“ What is it, my good fellow?” inquired Lewis, half amused and 
half bored by the man’s bashfulness. 

A consolatory mistrust of the sterling value of the picture-frame 
had, by this time, begun to insinuate itself into Sam’s mind, and re- 
assured in some degiee by tlie doubt, he continued: 

“ 1 beg paidon, sir, but 1 hopes you don’t feel so bad as might be 
expected, where you was shot last night?” 

Lewis thankeii him for his inquiry, and said he believed the 
wound was going on favorably. 

“ I’m sure I’m glad to hear it, which is a mercy to be thankful 


200 


LEWIS ARUKBEL. 


for/' returned his sympathizing visitor; then, leaning forward so as 
to approach his lips to Lewis’s ear, he continued in a loud whisper: 

“ Have ye any idea who it was as fired the sliot?” 

Lewis started, and, coloring slightly, fixed his eyes on the man’s 
face as he inquired abruptl}': “ Have you?” 

Forgetting his veneration for the carpet in the excitement of the 
conversation, the suspicious iinderkeeper walked to the door, and 
again tested Ihe key-hole, ere he ventured to answer the question; 
then approaching Lewis, he thrust his hand into a private pocket in 
his shooting- jacket, and drawing thence something caiefidly 
wrapped in a handkerchief, he presented it to the young tutor, sa}"- 
ing; 

“ That’s what I’ve been and found, sir; 1 picked it up in the 
wood not twenty yards from the place where you stood when you 
was shot, Mr. Arundel.” 

Lewis hastily unrolled the handkerchief, and drew from its folds 
a small pocket-pistol; on the stock, which was richly inlaid, was a 
silver escutcheon with a coat ot arms engraved upon it; from marks 
about the nipple it had evidentl}’’ been lately discharged, and on ex- 
amination it proved to have a rifle barrel. Lewis’s brow grew dark. 

‘‘ It is then as 1 suspected,” he muttered; pausing, how^ever, as a 
new idea seemed to strike him, ‘‘ It might be unintentional,” he con- 
tinued, ” the mere result ot accident —1 must not jump too hastily 
to such a conclusion ;” then, addressing the underkeeper he inquired: 

” Have you any idea to whom this pistol belongs?” 

” P’r’aps 1 may have,” was the cautious reply, ” but there’s some 
thing it’s best not to know — a man ndght get himself into trouble 
by being too knowing, you see, Mr. Arundel.” 

” Listen to me, my good friend,” returned Lewis, fixing his pierc- 
ing glance on the man’s face, ‘‘ it’s evident 3^011 more than suspect 
who is the owner of this pistol, and 3 ^ou probably are aware by 
whom and under what circumstances it was last night discharged. 
Now, if through a selfish dread of consequences you wish to keep 
this knowledge to yourself, t\hy come here and show me the pistol? 
If, on the contrary, you wish to enhance the value of yciir informa- 
tion in order to make a more profitable bargain witii me, you are 
only wasting time. 1 am naturall}^ anxious to know^ who wuunded 
me, and wdiether the deed was accidental or intentional; therefore 
you have but to name your price, and if I can afford it, 1 will give 
it you. 1 say this, because 1 can conceive no other reason tor your 
shilly-shallying.” 

During this speech the unfortunate Sam Jones shifted uneasily 
from leg to leg, dropped his cap, stooped to pick it up again, bit his 
under lip with shame and indecision, and at last exclaimed: 

‘‘ Bless’d if 1 can stand this bany longer! Out it must come, and 
if I loses my sitiution through it, 1 suppose there’s other places to be 
got; they can’t say nuflln’ against my character, that’s one comfort. 
It ain’t your money 1 wants, Mr. Arundel, sir; I’m able and willin’ 
to earn my own livin’; but I’ve got a good place here, and don’t 
wish to ofiend nobody; still right is right, and knowing what 1 
knows, my conscience wouldn’t rest till I’d come and told 3 'ou — 
only 1 thort if .you w'ould ha’ guessd it of yourself like, nothing 
needn’t ha’ come out about me in the matter.” 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


201 


“1 iinrterBtand/’ returned Lewis, with a contemptuous curl of 
the lip; “ 1 will take care not to commit you in any way; so speak 
out/’ 

“ Well, if you remember, sir, I went with you and Millar up to 
the hurley-stack last night, and when you grabbed hold of Hardy he 
sung out to tlie chup as was with him to come and help him, so 1 
thort the best thing tor me was to pitch into him. and prevent his 
doiuff so. Well, I hadn’t much trouble with him, for he was a 
shocking poor boxer, and as soon as I’d polished him off, I turned 
to lend you a hand; just at that minute I see the moon a-shining 
upon something bright and looking further, 1 perceived the figure 
of a man crouching close to the stack with a cocked pistol in his 
hand. When fust 1 see him the pistol was pointed at Hardy, but 
suddenly he changed his aim, and fired straight at you; as he let fly 
the moonlight fell upon his face, and if ever a man looked like the 
devil he did then.” 

” And it was — ” asked Lewis, eagerly. 

” Lord Beliefieldl” was the reply; ” there’s none of ’em wears 
hair on their top lip except the young lord, so it ain’t easy to mis- 
take him, ye see.” 

” Are you quite sure he changed the direction of the pistol? 
Miaht not the shot have been intended for Hardy?” 

” I’b lake my oath it worn’t, Mr. Arundel; he pointed it straight 
at your breast, and if Hardy hadn’t given a sudden wrench at the 
minute, and drawn you out of the line of fire, you’d have been a 
dead man long before this.” 

Seeing that Lewis continued silent, the keeper resumed: 

” As soon as you was hit, you let go, and Hardy threw you off. 

1 caught you, expecting it was all but up with you, but I still kept 
my e 3 ^e on his lordship, for 1 was curious to know how’^ he’d act. 
When he saw^ you fall he smiled, and then he looked more like a 
devil than he had done before. As Hardy was a cutting away he 
passed close to Lord Bellefield, and struck against his shoulder ac- 
cidentally; and his lordship in a rage flung the discharged pistol 
after him, and it would ha’ fetched him down too if it hadn’t a-hit 
against a branch; however, 1 marked where it fell pretty nigh, and 
as soon as it was light this morning 1 went and found it. There’s 
his lordship’s arms on it, same as them on his phaeton.” 

Completely overpowered and amazed at this recital Lewis, desir- 
ing to be alone with his own thoughts, obtained from Sam Jones a 
promise of the strictest secrecy in regard to the affair, and having 
liberally rewarded him for his discreet behavior, dismissed him. 
He then, concealing the pistol in his pocket, withdrew to the 
privacy of his own apartment, and locking the door, sat down 
to collect his ideas. At first he could scarcely realize the fact 
with which he had become acquainted. True, he had suspect- 
ed that it was from Lord Bellefield ’s hand he had received the 
wound, for he had previously observed the butt of a pistol protiud- 
iug from a pocket in his lordship’s great-coat, his attention being 
particular!}^ called to the fact by the eagerness with which its owner 
immediately hastened to conceal it more eftectuall}^; still, he had 
believed that he had been wounded by an accident, and that the shot 


202 


LEWIS ARUIIDEL. 


had been fired with the intention of disabling: Hardy, in whose capt- 
ure Lord Bellefield appeared for some mysterious reason to be deeply 
interested. The account he had just received proved that this was 
evidently not the case, and Lewis could only conjecture that at the 
moment Lord Bellefield was about to shuot Hardy, some fiend had 
suggested to him the opportunity of an easy revenge on the man he 
hated, and that, in an impulse ot ungovernable malice, he had 
altered the direction of the pistol. 

Bising and opening: his dressing-case, Lewis look from his secret 
drawer the ball which had been extracted from his shoulder, and 
drawing the pistol out ot his pocket, tried it; it fitted the barrel to a 
nicety. Beplacing it. he muttered, “ There is then no doubt.” He 
paused, but immediately resumed, “ ’Tis well; he has now filled up 
the measure of his guilt; the time is come to balance the account.” 
His intention at that moment was to seek out Lord Bellefield, up- 
braid him with his treachery, threaten to expose him, and demand 
as a right that he should afford him satisfaction, forcing him by 
some means to meet him on the following morning. But even when 
carried away by passion, Lewis was not utterly forgetful of the feel- 
ings of others, and his friendship for Leicester and for Annie, con- 
sideration for the general in his present situation, and the interest he 
took in Walter, rose up before him, and he exclaimed: 

” Bo, it is impossible; a thousand reasons forbid it while] remain 
under tliisroof; 1 must break oft all intercourse with this family 
before 1 seek my just revenge. Well, the day ot retribution is post- 
poned, then, perhaps for years; but it will come at last, 1 know; 1 
feel that it will. That man is a part of my destiny. With what 
peitinacity he hates me! He tears me too; he has done so ever since 
that affair of tlie gloves; he reads in my eyes that 1 had resolved on 
— on what? What will all this lead to? Am 1 at heart a mur- 
derer?” He sat down, for he was very weak, and trembled so vio- 
lently from the intensity of his feelings that his knees refused to sup- 
port him. 

“No!” he continued; “it is an act ot justice. This man in- 
sulted me — 1 bore it patiently; at least, 1 did not actively resent it; 
he repeated his injurious conduct; he heaped insult ou insult. 1 
warned him; he knew what he was doing; he saw the fiend he was 
arousing in me, but he persevered. Even yet 1 strove to forgive 
him; yes, for the sake of his brother’s kindness to me, for tlie sake 
of the fail girl who is betrothed to liini, 1 bad almost lesolved to 
forego my right to punish him. Then he seeks my life, the cow- 
ardly assassin! and in so doing he has sealed his own doom.” He 
rose and paced sternly up and down the apartment. “ Frere 
would say,” lie resumed, “ Frere would say that 1 ought to forgive 
him yet; but he wculd be wrong: he would quote the Scriptures 
that we should forgive a brother ‘ till seventy times seven.’ Aes, 
if be turn and repent; repented sins only are forgiven either in 
heaven or on earth. Does this man repent? Let him tell me so, 
and 1 will give him my band in triendship; but it he glories in his 
wickedness?— why, then, the old Hebrew law stands good, ‘ An 
eye for an eye.’ He owes me a life already, and it 1 offer him fair 
combat, 1 give him a fair chance to which in strict justice he has no 
right; but 1 am no mean assassin, And now to return his pistol, 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. ^ 203 

and inform his lordship that 1 am aware of the full extent of my 
obligations to him.” 

So saying, he drew pen and ink toward him, and hastily wrote 
as followsT 

“ Mr. Arundel presents his compliments to Lord Bellelield, and 
begs to return tbe pistol with which he did him the lumor to attempt 
his life in the wood last night. Mr. Arundel reserves the pleasure 
of returning the shot till some future opportunity.” 

He then rolled up the note, and inserting it in the barrel of the 
pistol, formed the whole into a small parcel, which he carefully 
sealed, and, ringing for Lord Beiletield’s valet, desired him to lay 
it on his master’s dressing-table before he prepared for dinner. 

Header, when your eyes fall upon this page, which lays bare the 
heart of one whom we would fain depict, not as a mere pict- 
uresque brain-creation of impossible virtues and startling faults, 
but an erring mortal like ourselves, swayed by the same passions, 
subject to the same influences tor good or for evil— when you perceive 
how this one wrong feeling, permitted to take root in his mind, 
grew and fl.ourished, till it so warped his frank, generous nature that 
the fiend of sopliistry, quoting Scripture to his purpose, could blind 
his sense of right with such shallow reasoning as the foregoing, re- 
solve, if a single feeling lurk serpent-like in your bosom, to cast 
it from you at whatever sacrifice, lest when you pray ” Our Father ” 
which is in heaven to “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive 
them that trespass against us,” you unawares pronounce your own 
condemnation. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

CONTAINS SUNDRY DEFINITIONS OF “ WO WAN AS SHE SHOULD BE,” 
AND DISCLOSES MRS. ARUNDEL’S OPINION OF RICHARD FREUE. 

Lewis did not obtain any answer to his polite note, as Lord 
Bellefield received on the following morning letters which he said 
required his immediate presence in London, and in the hurry of his 
departure he no doubt forgot to refute the charge Lewis had seen 
fit to bring against him; and, as the young tutor preserved a strict 
silence on the subject, and Sam Jones kept his own counsel with 
his accustomed closeness, there, for the present, the matter appeared 
likely to rest. Some little surprise was caused in the village by the 
sudden disappearance of Jane Hardy, the poacher’s daughter, a 
girl of about nineteen; bid, as it was imagined she had gone ti 
take up her quarters in the town of 11 — , where her father w^as im- 
prisoned. her absence was soon forgotten. Lewis and Charles Leices- 
ter alone, having ascertained her identity with the young person 
wdjo had assisted in the refreshment room on the night of the narty, 
connected her flight with Lord Bellefield ’s abrupt departure, and, 
allhough the subject was, for obvious reasons, avoided between 
them, little doubt remained on their minds as to her probable fate. 
This occurrence afforded Lewis a clew to Lord Bellefield’s sudden 
interest in legard to Harriy’s capture; — by her father’s imprison- 
ment would be removed the chief impediment to the success of his 


204 ^ LEWIS ARUNDEL. 

designs upon llie daughter. The event had proved the correctness 
of his calculation. 

Weeks passed on; the wound in Lewis’s shoulder healed, despite 
the aggravating attendance ot Drs. Scalpel and Bistoury, and, with 
youth and health on his side, he speedily regained his accustomed 
vigor. General Grant’s recov^ery was a matter of greater dithculty. 
The fracture had been by no means easily reduced, and the process 
by which the bones reunited was a long and tedious one. 11 is acci- 
dent (as is usually the case with such events) had occurred at a most 
inconvenient moment; — while he was yet confined to his room the 
election for the county came on, and his opponent, taking advantage 
of his absejce to undermine his influence with the voters, was re- 
turned by a large majority. The bribery by which he had obtained 
his seat w^as, however, a matter ot such nolbi iety that, by De Grande- 
ville’s advice, the general was induced to petition Parliament to an- 
nul the election. The petition tailjd, and the expenses, which, 
from the prolonged proceedings, were unusually heavy, all tell 
upon the unsuccessful candidate. During the progress ot the attair, 
Lewis, by the general’s wish, acted as his amanuensis and private 
secretary, a confidential servant being engaged to wait on Walter 
and attend him during his rides, thus relieving his tutor of much 
that was irksome in his situation. The Loudon season was at its 
hdght before General Grant had recovered sufTieiently to leave 
Broadhursl, but a fortnight before the day on which Ctiniles 
Leicester’s wedding was fixed to take place Annie and her father 
started for the great metropolis. 

During his attendance on the general Lewis had been thrown 
much into Annie’s society, and tlieii intimac}^ had deepened, on the 
lady’s side, into feelings of the warmest esteem and tiiendsliip, 
while the gentleman became more and more convinced that his pre- 
vious estimate ot the fair sex was a completely mistaken one, and 
altogether to be condemned as the weakest and most fallacious the- 
ory that ever entered the brain of a hot-headed boy, by which op- 
probiious epithet he mentally stigmatized his six-months- ago self, 
and for at least a week after she had departed he felt as if something 
had gone wTong with the sun, so that it never shone properly. The 
general had been away about a fortnight when Lewis received a 
letter from Rose intormiug him for the first lime ot her literary pur- 
suits. Since we have last heard of this young lady she has been 
growing decidedly blue. Not only had she, under Bracy’s auspices, 
published a series of papers in Blunt’s Magazine, but she had posi- 
tivel}^ written a child’s book, which, although it contained original 
ideas, ffood .'^ense, and warm feeling, instead ot second-hand moral 
platitudes, and did not take that particularly natural view ot life 
which represents it as a system of temporal rewards and punish- 
ments, wherein the praiseworthy elder sister is always recompensed 
with an evangelical young duke, and the naughty boys are invaria- 
bly drowned on clandestine skating expeditions, yet found an enter- 
prising publisher willing to purchase it; nay, so well did it answer, 
that the courageous hibliopolist had actually expressed a wish to 
confer with “ the talented authoress,” as he styled poor Rose, in 
regard to a second work. Whereupon Frere dispatched a notejo 
that young lady, telling her she had better come up to town at once, 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


205 


offerins; her the nse of his house in a rough and reariy way, just as 
if he had been wriling to a uian; and though he did add in a post- 
script that if she fancied she should be dull she’d better bring lier 
mother with her, the after thought was quite as likel}' to have arisen 
from sheer good-nature as from any, even the most faint, glimmer- 
ing of etiquette. Owing to a judicious hint thrown out by Bracy, 
however, an invitation arrived at the same time from Lady Lombard, 
wliich Mrs. Arundel had immediately decided on accepting, and the 
object of Rose’s letter was to inquire whether there was the slight- 
est hope of Lewis being able to meet them. 

By the same post arrived a note written by Annie from her father’s 
dictation, saying that he found he was quite unable to aet on with- 
out Mr. Arundel’s assistance, that he considered chang3 of scene 
might prove beneficial to Walter, and that it was, therefore, his 
wish that Lewis and his pupil should join them immediately after 
the bustle of the wedding should be over; which scheme chimed in 
with the young tutor's wishes most admirably, and for the moining 
he was so happy as to be quite unlike his usual grave and haughty 
self, and astonished Faust to such a degree by placing his torepaws 
against his own chest, and in that position constraining h m to 
waltz round the room on his hind-legs, that the w'orthy dog would 
have assuredly taken out a statute of lunacy against his master had 
he been aware of the existence of such a process. 

Those who witnessed the marriage of the Hon. Charles Leicester 
to the lovely and accomplished daughter of the late Peregrine Pey- 
ton, Esq., of Stockington Manor, in the county of Lancashire (they 
said nothing of Ludgate Hilt, and ignored Ptumpsiern tolall}') de- 
scribe it to have been a truly edifying ceremony. The fatal knot 
was tied and the wretched pair launched into a married state by the 
Bishop of L — , the unfnxppy victims submitting to their fate with 
unexampled fortitude and resignation, and the female spectators 
evincing by their tears that the lesson to be derived from the awful 
tragedy enacting before them would not be thrown away upon 
them. Nor were the good intentions thus forme d allowed to swell 
the list of “unredeemed pledges” whence that prince of pawn- 
brokers, Satan, is popularly supposed to select his paying materials, 
as, during the ball which concluded the evening, two fine young 
men of property fell victims to premature declaraiicns, and after a 
rapid decline from the ways of good fcdlowship, were carried off by 
matrimony, and departed this (L<?., fashionable) life in less than two 
months after their first seizure. 

On Lewis’s arrival in town, he found a small packet directed to 
him in Leicester’s hanilwiiting, containing, besides the glazed cards 
lovingly coupled by silver twist, a remarkably elegant gold W’atch 
and chain for the waistcoat pocket, together with a few^lines from 
Charley himself, saying that to Lewis’s good advice and plain speak- 
ing he felt he in a great measure ow’ed his present happiness, and 
that he hoped Lewis would wear the inclosed trifle, the joint gift of 
himself and Laura, to remind him of their mutual frienilshtp and 
regard. Had he known that Anuie Grant had noticed the fact of 
his not possessing a w^ch, and suggested the nature of the gift to 
her cousin, he would have valued U even moi’e highly than he did. 

The happy pair had determined to test the endurance of their 


206 


LEWIS AEU^IDEL. 


felicity by starting for the Hhine, which popular river it was theiv 
intention to ko up as far as it was go up-ahle, then proceed 
to Switzerland, do that laud of musical cows and icy moiirilains 
tliorougldy, and finall}^ take up their quarters at Floience, where 
Leicester had succeeded in obtaining a diplomatic appointment, a 
letter had been received trom them dated Coblentz, wherein it ap- 
peared their new-found huppiness had stood the voyage t>etter than 
miiiht have been expected— a fact mainly attributable to their hav- 
ing had an unusually calm passage. Laura considered ihe Rhine 
scenery exquisite; Charley thought it all very well tor a change, hut 
for a constancy, he must confess he preferred the Serpi mine; he was 
disgusted with the German students, whom he stigmatized as “ awful 
tigers,” wondered why the w’omcn w’ore short petticoats if they 
hadn’t better ankles to show, complained bitterly of the intense 
stupidity of the natives for not understanding either French or En- 
glish, and wound up by a long, violent sentence, quite’ unconnected 
with all that had gone before it, setting forth his unalterable con- 
viction that Laura was an angel, which unscriptural assertion he 
reiterated four times in as many lines. 

A change had taken place in Rose 'Arundel, and Lewis, as he 
gazed with affection on her calm, pensive brow, and marked the 
earnest, thoughtful expression of her soft, gray eye, felt that she 
was indeed altered; he had left her little more than a child, he 
found her a woman, in the best and fullest sense of the expression. 
Reader, do you know all that phrase implies? do you understand 
what is meant by a woman in the true and fullest sense of the term? 

“Eh? 1 should rather think 1 did, too, just very little,” re- 
plies Ensiiin Downylip, wiijking at society at large; “ know what a 
woman is? 5^es, 1 consider that good, rather.” 

“And what, oh! most exquisite juvenile, maybe your definition 
of woman as she should be?” The ensign strokes his upper lip, 
where that confounded mustache is so very “ lang a cornin’,” rubs 
his nose to arouse his intellect, which he tails to do because that 
faculty is not asleep, but wanting, and replies: 

. “ Ar— well, to begin with: woman is of course a decidedly in- 
ferior animal, but — ar — lake the best specimen of the cla?s and 
you’ll find it vew^y pwitty, piquant, devoted to polking, light m 
hand, clean about the pasterns, sometliing like Fanny Elsler, with 

a dasli of Lady to give it style (1 can’t stand vulgawity), de 

cidedly fast! (1 hate your cart-horsey gals), plenty of bustle to make 
it look spicey, ready to go the pace no end, and able properly to — 
ahem! appweciate ‘ ycurs truly ’ — ar — that’s about the time of day, 
eh, Mr. xluthor!” 

“ INo such thing, sir,” replied Coerulea Scribbler*, who is so very 
superior that she is momentarily expected to regenerate society 
single-handed; “ no such thing, sir ; 1 know what the author means; 
he jusily considers woman as a— that is, as ihe concentrated essence 
of mind; nothing low,, base, earthy — but — in fact — definitions should 
be terse— you’ll excuse my mathematical tastes, but— abem! — three 
terms at Queen’s College and that dear Professor Baa-lamb natu- 
rally produce a logical habit of thought — you require a perfect 
woman?” 

*' Ko, madam, 1 am not so unreasonable.” 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


207 


“ 1 mean you require a definition of a perfect woman; here you 
have it then— the maximum of mind united to the minimum of 
matter, or, to speak poetically, ‘a thing all soul.’ And having 
thus given her opinion, Miss Coerulea, who measures harely five feet 
and is as thin as a lath, shakes her straw-colored ringlets, and subsides 
into the Sixth Book of Euclid. 

But neither the red- jacket nor the blue-stocking, albeit each the 
type of a not unnumerous class, has exactly answered our question 
as we would wish it replied to. We do not agree with Charley 
Leicester m considering woman an angel; — first, because our ideas 
with regard to angels are excessively vague and undefined, wings 
and white drapery being the only marked features which we have 
as yet succeeded in realizing; and, secondly, because, to verify the 
resemblance, woman should be faultless, and we have never met 
with one who had not some fascinating little sin left to show that 
she was not too good for this world. Our notion of a woman, in 
the best sense of the word, is a being fitted to be a helpmate tor 
man; and this would lead us into another disquisition, which we 
will dismiss summarily by stating that we mean a man worthy of 
the name, not an ape in a red coat like Ensign Downylip, or an owl 
in a sad-colored one like Professor Baa- lamb; but a man whom it 
would not be mere satire to call a lord of the creation. A helpmate 
for such a one as this should possess a clear, acute intellect, or she 
would be unable to comprehend his aspirations after the good, and 
true, and beautiful— the efforts of his tall(3n nature to regain some- 
what of its original rank in the scale of created beings. She should 
have a faithful, loving heart, that when, being foiled in his worldly 
career, his spirit is dark within him, and, in the bitterness of his 
soul, he confesses that “the good that he would he does not, but 
the evil he would not, that be does,” her affection may prove to 
him, that in her love he has one inestimable blessing yet remaining, 
ot which death alone can deprive him, and then only for a season; 
for — availing herself ot the fitting moment with the delicate tact 
which is one of the brightest instincts of a loving woman’s heart— 
she can offer him the only true consolation, by urging him to renew 
his Christian warfare in tiie hope that together they may attain the re- 
ward of their high calling, a reward so glorious that the mind of 
man is impotent to conceive its nature But to be able to do this 
she must herself have realized, by the power ot faith, the blessed- 
ness of things unseen, and with this requisite, without which all 
other excellences are valueless, we conclude our definition of 
“ woman as she should be.” 

Such a one was Bose Arundel, and countless others are there wdio, 
it not sinless as the radiant messengers of heaven, are yet doing 
angels’ work by many a fireside which their presence cheers and 
blesses. Happy is the man who possesses in a wife or sister such 
a household fairy, and if some there he who hear alone the burden 
ot life — whose joys are few, for we rejoice not in solitude — let those 
whose lot is brighter forgive the clouded brow or the cynical word 
that at times attests the weariness of a soul on which the sunlight 
of attection seldom beams. 

Ko particular alteration was observable in IVh’s. Arundel„ who 
seemed to possess the enviable faculty of never growing older, and 


208 


LEWIS AliUNDEL. 


who remained just as gay and sparkling as when at sixteen she had 
enslaved the tancy, rather than the heart of Captain Aiundel. 

“ ^ly dear Lewis/’ she exclaimed, after having asked a hundred 
(questions in a breath regarding the internal econom}' of General 
Grant’s family, the affray with the poachers, Charles Leicester’s 
wedding, and every other event, grave or otherwise, which occurred 
to her active and versatile mind, “ my dear Lewis, what an oiiirinal 
your friend Frere is! excessively kind and good-naturtd, but so very 
odd. He volunteered to come and meet us at the coach office, which 
I considered quite a work of supereroi^ation, but Hose had imbibed 
such a mistrust of London and its inhabitants, whom she expected 
to eat her up bodil 3 % 1 believe, that she persuaded me to accept his 
offer. Well, when the coach arrived 1 looked about, but nobody 
did i see who at all coincided with my preconceived ideas of Mr. 
Frere, and 1 began to think he would prove faithless, when 1 de- 
scried an individual in a vile hat and an old rough great-coat 
perched on a pile of luggage, with a cotton umbrella between his 
knees, reading some dirty little book, in whicii he appeared com- 
pletely immersed. He took not the slightest notice of the bustle and 
confusion going on around him, and would, 1 believe, have rat there 
until now if a porter, carrying a heavy trunk, had not all but fallen 
over him; upon which he startt^d up, and, for the first lime pei’ceiv- 
ing the coach, exclaimed: ‘ By Jove, there’s the very thing I am 
w^aiting for!’ then shouldering his umbrella, he advanced to ibe 
window, and thrusting in bis great head, growled out, ‘ Are any of 
you Miss Arundel?’ Hose answered the question, for 1 was so 
taken by surprise that 1 was dying with laughter. As soon as he 
had ascertained our identity, he continued: ‘ Well, then 1 slioula 
say, the sooner you’re out of this the better. I’ll call a cab.’ The 
moment it drew up he flung open the door, and exclaiming: ‘ Now, 
come along,’ he caught hold of Rose as if she’d been a carpet-bag, 
dragged her out, and pushed her by main farce into the cab.” 

‘‘ Oh, mamma,” interrupted Rose, apologetically, ” you really 
color the matter too highly. Mr. Frere was as kind as possible. He 
was a little rough, certainl 3 % and seemed to think I must be as help- 
less as a child; but 1 dare say he’s not accustomed to act as squire 
to dames.” 

” Indeed he’s not,” resumed Mrs. Arundel; ” but 1 was deter- 
mined he shoulon’t paw me about like a bale of goods; so 1 rested 
my baud on a porter’s shoulder, and sprung clean from the coach 
into the cab while he was stooping to pick up his wretched um- 
brella; and finely astonished he looked too when be discovered 
what 1 bad done. Then he dragged down all the luggage, just as 
he had done Rose, and tried to put two trunks that did not belong 
to us on the cab, only 1 raved at him till i obliged him to relinquish 
them. Of course 1 was forced to offer him a seat iu the cab, but 
be coolly replied, ‘No, thank ye; tlieie are too many bandboxes — 
the squares of their bases occupy the entire area. Fll sit beside 
cabby.’ And, to my horror, be scrambled up to the driving-seat, 
and taking the dirty book out of his pocket, was speedily absorbed 
in its contents; and in this state w^e actuall 3 '^ drove up to Lady 
Lombard’s door. 1 could have beaten the mar, 1 was so angry 
with him. And yet, with it all, the creature is a gentleman.” 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


209 


“Indeed he is,” returned Lewis, “a thorough gentleman in 
mind,^ though, from the extent to which he is engrossed by his lit- 
erary and scientific pursuits, and from the tact of living so much 
alone, he lias not the manneis of society. But Frere is a very first- 
rate man; he is no ordinary intellect.” 

“ It is impossible to watch the play of his features and doubt that 
for a moment,” returned Hose eagerly. “Look at his speaking 
eye— his noble forehead.” 

‘‘Oh! Rose is quite emprise witli the monster,” remarked Mrs. 
Arundel, laughing. ” It’s a decided case of love at first sight. 
Was it the old great-coat or the dreadful hat which first touched 
your heart, ma cMreV 

‘* I’m not bound to criminate myself,” was the repl}^; ” so I shall 
decline to answer that question.” 

While she spoke, a short, sharp double-knock, as of an agitated 
postman, awoke the echoes and the porter in Lady Lombard’s 
” Marble Hall.” In another minute the Brobdingnagian footman, 
with prize calves to his legs, flung open the drawing-room door and 
announced, in a stentorian voice, ” Mr. Frere.’' 

‘‘ Quand on parlc du diaUe on en wit le queue,'' whispered ]\Irs. 
Arundel, rising quickly. ” Positively, Rose, my nerves won’t stand 
the antics of your pet t ear this morning. Let me see you again be- 
fore you go, Louis, mon clier — you’ll find me in the boudoir.” 

So saying, she glided noiselessl}^ out of one door a moment before 
Frere entered at the other. Lewis followed her retreating figure 
with a glance half painful, half-amused. ‘‘My mother grows 
younger and more gay every time 1 see her,” he observed to Rose. 

A speaking glance was her only answer, tor at the moment Frere 
made his appearance; and a somewhat singular one it was. The day 
being fine, he had discarded the obnoxious great coat, and — thanks 
to his old female domestic, who had caught him going out with a 
large hole in his sleeve, and sent him back to put on another gar- 
ment, which she herself selected— the coat he wore was in unusu- 
ally good preservation, and not so very much too large for him; 
but the heavy shoes, the worsted stockings, the shepherd’s plaid 
trousers, and the cotton umbrella were all in statu quo; while his 
bright eyes, sparkling out of a greater bush than ever of untrimmed 
hair and whiskers, gave him a striking resemblance to some honest 
Scotch terrier, worthy to be immortalized by Landseer’s pencil. 
Catching sight of Lewis, he rushed toward him, and seizing both 
his hands (in order to accomplish which act of friendship he allowed 
the umbrella to fall on Rose’s toes) he shook them heartily, ex- 
claiming: “Why, Lewis, old boy! this is a pleasure! I hadn’t a 
notion you would be here so soon. How’s Grcneral Grant? and 
how’s Walter? and how’s Faust? and how’s everybody? Well, 1 
am glad to see you!” 

All this time Frere had taken not the slightest notice of Rose, 
who, having advanced a step or two to greet him, had resumed her 
seat, more pleased to witness his delight in welcoming Lewis than 
any attention to herself could have rendered lier. Having sealed 
himself on a sofa, and pulled Lewis down by his side, he for the 
first time appeared aware of Rose’s presence, which he hastened to 


210 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


acknowledge by a nod, adding, “ Ah! how cUye do? I’ve got some- 
Ihing to tell you prescnlly, as soon as I’ve done with your brother.” 

Then, turning to J^ewis, he recoinnienced his string of questions, 
without regarding Rose’s presence otherwise than b}' occasionally 
including her in the conversation with such inlerjectional remarks 
as: ” You can understand that,” — ‘‘ 1 explained that to you the 
other day;” until at length he abruptly exclaimed, ‘‘ Now 1 must 
go and talk to her — she and 1 have got a little business together.” 

” Perhaps 1 am de irop," observed Lewis, with a meaning smile. 

In reply to this Frere merely clinched his fist, and having shaken 
it within an inch of Lewis’s face, marched deliberately across the 
room, and drawing a chair close to Rose, seated himself in it; then, 
laying hold of one corner of her worsted work, he said, in a giufl; 
voice: “Put away this ruboish.” 

‘‘ 1 can listen to you, JMr. Frere, and go on with niy slipper at the 
sann^time,” returned Kose, quietly releasing her wmik. 

“ Toil can’t do twm things properly together,” was the reply; 
“ nobody can; for it’s all fudge about Oaisar’s reading and dictating 
at the same time. What I’ve got to tell you is more important 
than a carpet shoe.” 

Smiling at his pertinacity, Rose, not having a particle of obstinacy 
in her disposition, put away her work, and. demurely crossing her 
liands before her, like a good child saying its lessons, awaited her 
tyrant’s orders. That her attitude w^as not lost upon Frere that gen- 
tleman made evident by catching Lewis’s eye, and pointing back- 
ward with his thumb, as much as to say, “ There! do you see 
that?” then, producing a note from his pocket, he coolly broke the 
seal, opened it, and handing it to Rose, muttered, “ Read that.” 

The note ran as follows: 

“Mr. T. Bracy presents his compliments to Miss Arundel, and 
begs to inclose a note of introduction to Mr. Nonpareil, the pub- 
lisher, as Mr. Frere agrees in thinking that the offer made by Mr. 

A of B Street, for the copyright of her interesting tale, was 

quite inadequate to its merits.” 


CHAPTER XXXll. 

ROSE AND FRERE GO TO VISIT MR. NONPAREIL, THE PUBLISHER. 

“ How very kind pf Mr. Bracy,” exclaimed Rose, handing the 
note with which the preceding cimpter concluded to her brother, 
Frere having quietly read it over her shoulder. “ Lewis, i must 
ask you to be goovi enough to go with me to Mr, Nonpareil’s when- 
ever you can spare the time.” 

“ Tou needn't trouble him,” leturned Frere gruffly ; “ I mean to 
take you there myself; and as there’s never any good in putting 
things off, 1 vote we go this morning. What do you say?” 

“ You are very kin<l,” replied Rose, smiling; “ but really, now 
my brother is in town, 1 need not encroach on your valuable time” 

“ Valuable fiddlestick!” was the courteous reply; “though, of 
course, everybody’s time is valuable, it people did but know how 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


211 


to employ it properly — which they never do. But you don’t sup- 
pose it I’d anything very particular in hand, 1 should he dawdline: 
here, do you? I’ve got to oe at the Ornithological at four, and to 
call at Moore’s, the hird-stutrer’s, first; but 1 can look in there on 
our way to Nonpareil’s.” 

” Yes; hut I’m sure Lewis — ” began Rose in a deprecatory tone 
of voice. 

” Nonsense about Lewis!” was the surly rejoin :ler. “Wliatdo 
you imagine he knows about dealing with publishers? — they’re 
* kittle-cattle to shoe behint,’ as a Scotchman w’ould say I’ve had 
dealings enough with ’em to find out that, I can tell you. As tor 
Lewis, if he were to walk into one of their dens with his head up in 
the air, they'd take him for Lord Octavo Shallowpate, come to 
negotiate for another new novel, written with a paste-pot and 
scissors, and when they found he had not a handle to his name with 
which to shove his rubbish down the public throat, they’d kick him 
out of the shop again. ’ 

” Then you really think I look as stupid as a literary lord, eh, 
Frere?” inquired Lewis. 

” Well, that’s too strong a term, perhaps,” answered Frere, refiect- 
ively; ” but you don’t look like a man of business, at all events.” 

” Where does this sagacious publisher reside?” asked Lewis; and 
when Frere had given him the required information, he continued: 
“Then we’li setile the matter thus: my tailor, with whom 1 am 
anxious to gain an interview, lives in the adjoining street; accord- 
ingly, I’ll walk down with Rose and you, and while you negotiate 
with the autocrat of folios. I’ll take fitting measures tor getting 
myselt ‘ imatly bound in cloth.’ ” 

“ So be it, then, most facetious youth,” returned Frere, lairghing; 
“ and the faster you can get read}^ you know,” he continued, 
turning to Rose, “ the better.” 

“ I’m all obedience,” replied Rose, smiling; “ but 1 think you’re 
rather fond of tyrannizing, Mr. Frere.” 

“ Who, 1?” returned Frere, in astonishment; “ not a bit of it; 
I’m the most easily managed fellow in London— 1 am, upon my 
word.” 

“ You should see what perfect command his old housekeeper has 
him in,” observed Lewis, with an arch glance at his sister; “ the 
bear dares not growl at her— she’s a perfect Van Amburgh to him.” 

Now, there w^as so much truth in this charge that it was rather a 
sore subject with Frere. Tlie old woman in questiou had lived 
with bis mother, and had nursed him when a child; aud for these 
reasons, as well as from good nature and a certain easiness ot dis- 
])Osition which lay beneath his rough manner, Frere had allo^’C(l 
liei gradually to usurp control over him, till, in all the minutiae of 
his domestic life, she ruled him with a rod of iron. Althougli her 
admiration of and respect for her master’s learning was equal to her 
total ignorance of the arts and sciences, and although her afieclion 
for him w^as boundless, nature had gifted her wilh a crusty temper, 
whicli an interval of poverty and hardship (extending from the 
death ot Frere’s mother till the time when his first act on obtaining 
acomp)et(nce had been to seek her out and take her into his serv- 
ices) had not tended to sweeten. The dialogues which occasionally 


L'EM'IS ARUKDEL. 


/V 1 


look place between the master and servant were most amusing, and 
her power over him was exercised so openly that his tear ot Jemima 
had become a standing joke among his intimates. Accordingly, on 
healing Lewis's observation. Frere liaslily jumped up and strode to 
the fire place, muttering: “ -Nonsense! pshaw! rubbish! don’t you 
believe a word ot it. Miss Arundel; but go and dress, there's a 
good — ” he was going to add “ tellow;” for, be it known, the clew 
to his grult, unpolished behavior toward the young lady in question 
was to be discovered in the tact that, from her quiet composure, 
freedom from atTectation, clear good sense, and the interest she took 
in subjects usually considered too abstruse tor female investigation, 
Fiere looked upon her as a kindred soul, and as all his other chosen 
intimates were ot the w'orthier gender, he w’as continually forgetting 
(hat she w’as not a man. Checking himself, however, just in time, 
he substituted “creature" for “fellow;” and as Hose left the 
room, he continued, “ ’Pon my w-ord, Lewis, your sister’s such a 
nice, sensible, well-infoimed, reasonable being, that i am con- 
stantly forgetting she’s a woman.” 

“ Which speech shows that among your numerous studies that of 
the female character has been neglected,” replied Lewis, “ or that 
you have taken your impressions from very bad specimens of the 
sex.” 

Fiere, who during the above remark had drawn from his pocket 
a lump ot crumbling sandstone, which, in order to examine more 
closely, he coolly deposited on a small siitin-wmod work-table, 
looked up in surprise, as he rejoined. “ Your opinions touching 
the merits of womankind seem to have suffered a recovery, young 
man, seeing that the last time 1 had the honor of discussing the 
matter wit h you women were all perfidious hyenas, or thereabouts. 
What has wrought so lemarkable a transformationV” 

Something appeared to have suddenly gone wrong with Lewis’s 
boot, for it wuis not until he bad thoroughly investigated the mat- 
ter that he replied — his face still being bent over the offending 
article: “ The simple tact that as one growls older he grows wdsei, 
1 suppose. Ko doubt Gretchen behaved abominably, ami rendered 
me for the time intensely wretched; but it was folly in me ever to 
have placed my happiness in the power of such a little romantic, 
fliiting, half-educated thing as she w^as; I should not do so now, 
and to argue fro.m such an individual instance, totlie disparagement 
of the wdiole sex, was one ot the maddest notions that ever entered 
the brain of a hot- headed boy.” 

“Phew!” whistled Frere in astonishment, “you are not over- 
civil to your fonner self, 1 must say. If anybody else had spoken 
so disrespect tully of you, you’d have been for punching his head 
for him; however, 1 believe your present frame of mind is the more 
sane ot the two, lliough sw^eeping assertions are always more or less 
untenable. The truth is, you can lay dowm no general rule about 
it — women are human as w'eil as men; there are a tew very good, a 
few’ very bad, and an immense number w’ho are nothing particular, 
in both sexes. There is no authority which w’ould lead us to sup- 
pose Adam’s rib was m.ade of ivory more than any of his other 
bones. Tirere’s one vice belong to the fair sex, though : they’re 
always an unmerciful lime putting on their bonnets — your sister’s 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 213 

been five minutes already, and IM lay a bet we don’t see her for five 
more.” 

As he uttered the last words. Rose, fully equipped and looking 
the picture ot neatness, tripped into the room, to Frere's intense 
discomfiture, who scrambled his relic ot the eia ot the old reil sand- 
stone into his pocket, with the air of some culprit school-boy de- 
tected in his malpractices by the vigilant eye of his pedagogue. 

Lewis having slipped away for a moment to take leave of Mrs. 
Arundel, who dismissed him wdth a parting injunction to take care 
Ursa Major did not devour Rose, the trio descended the staiis, Frere 
taking an opportunity to whisper to Lewis, ” She was down upon 
me then in every sense of the word; didn’t believe a woman could 
get ready in five minutes on any consideration; but she’s more sense 
than 1 ever expected to see under a bonnet, that’s a fact.” 

” Don’t you think for once you could dispense with that dreadful 
umbrella?” inquired Lewis, who had imbibed a tew Leicesterian 
prejudices from his residence at Broadhurst. 

” Dreadful umbrella! why, what’s the matter with it?” exclaimed 
Frere, half unfurling his favorite; ‘‘ it’s water-tight, and has a 
famous strong stick to it; what more do you want in an umbrella, 
eh?” 

” It might have been made ot silk,” suggested Lewis mildly. 

” lies, and be stolen and brought b, ck again regularly three limes 
a week, ” returned Frere. ‘‘ 1 ha<l a silk one once, and (he expense 
that umbrella was to me, to say nothing of the wear and tear of mind 
it occasioned, was perfectly terrific. 1 shudder when I think ot it; 
there are not a dozen cabmen in London who have not received 
half a-crown for bringing me back that umbrella. It was a regular 
bottle-imp to me, always being lost and always coming back again. 
The ’bus conductors knew it by sight as well as they know the 
Baiil^; tliey were forever laying traps to get it into their possession, 
with a view to obtain the reward ot honesty by bringing it home 
again. I got rid of it at last, though; 1 lent it to a fellow who 
owed me five pounds, and I’ve never seen man, money, or umbrella 
since. Now, this dear old cotton thing, not being worth finding, 
has never been losl ; however, if you’] I promise to take caie 1 have it 
to-morrow when I call, ’ll leave it here, and it your sister gels w^et 
to-day, don’t blame me.” 

“Rose, will you undertake the heavy responsibility?” asked 
Lewis. 

” 1 think 1 may safely promise so to do,” was the reply; ” there is 
a little foot page in this establishment in whom 1 have the greatest 
confidence, and to his custody will 1 commit it.” 

And Frere’s anxious mind being soothed by this assurance, they 
started on their expedition. Twenty minutes’ brisk: walking — 
which would have been brisker still if Rose had not gently hinted 
thnt ladies were not usrdllly accustomed to sliide along like post- 
men; to which suggestion Frere responded with something very 
like a growl — twenty minutes’ walking brought them to the very 
elegant front of Mr. Nonpareil’s shop, wdiere Lewis left the two 
others. The nice young man, with Hyperion curls outside his head 
and nothing save much too high an opinion of himself within, who 
lounged gracefully behind the counter, replied to Frere’s inquiry 


214 


LEWIS AEUNLEL. 


whether ]Mr. Nonpareil was at home, after the fashion of the famous 
Irish echo, by another question. Elevating his eyebrows till 
they almost disappeared in Ids forest of hair, he drawled out: 

“ Wh a-y? did you w-a-nt him?” 

” Of course 1 did, or else 1 should not have asked for him,” re- 
turned Frere sharply; then handing his own card and Bracy’s note 
of introduction across the counter, he continued: ‘‘Take those to 
your mastery and tell him that a lady and gentleman are waiting to 
see him.” 

At the word *‘ master ” Hyperion colored, and appeared about to 
become impertinent, but something in Frere’s look induced him to 
alter his intention, and turning on his lieel, he strode into the back 
shop with an air marly re ^ which was deeply affectiirg to— the risible 
muscles of the pair he left behind him. 

” There’s an animal I” exclaimed B'rere, as the subiect of his re- 
mark disappeared behind a tall column of account books; “now, 
that ape looks upon himself as a sort of Admirable Crichton, and 
I’ll be bound has a higher opinion of his own mental endow’inenis 
than ever IShakespeare or Milton had of theirs. 1 dare say the creat- 
ure has his admirers too; some subordinate shop-boy, or lire urchin 
who runs of errands, takes him at his own price, and believes in 
him implicitly. \e gods, what a ‘ship of fools’ is this goodly 
vessel of society!” 

” 1 hope he does not rest his claims on the ground of his personal 
attractions,” returned Bose, with a quiet smile. 

” His strength must lie in his hair if he does,” replied Frere, 
‘‘like that of the Israelitish Hercules of old. But see, here he 
comes, shaking his ambrosial locks; and behold, he smiles gracious- 
ly upon us. Bracy’s note has worked miracles.” 

Appioachrng with a smirk and a bow, Hyperion politely signified 
that Mr. Nonpareil was disengaged; then again retreating, led the 
way through a sort of defile of unsold literature to the sanctum of 
the eiueiprising publisher. This remarkable apartment was of the 
most minute dimensions, a very duodecimo edition of a room, em- 
bellished with a miniature fire-place, an infinitesimal writing-table, 
and V mere peephole of a window, looking across many chimney 
pots into space. 

In the middle of tliis retreat of learning, like an oyster in its shell, 
reposed that Rhadamanthus of Mterature, the heroic Nonpareil. His 
outer man was incased in black, as became the severity of his 
office; a white neck-cloth encircJ<d his august throat; while a 
heavy gold watch-chain and seals attested his awful respectability. 
He was of a most respectable age, neither incautiously young nor 
unadvisedly o’d; he was of a most respectable height, neither ab- 
surdly short nor inconveniently tall; his weight, 12 stones 6 pounds, 
was most respectable — it had not varied a pound for the last ten 
years, nor could one look at him without feeling that it would re- 
main exactly the same for the next ten 3 "eaTs; he had a most re- 
spectable complexion, red enough to indicate that he lived well and 
that it agreed with him, but nothing more. Nobody could suspect 
that man of an apoplectic tendency; he was much too respectable to 
think of dying suddenly; the very expression of his face was a sort 
of perpetual life assurance; lie go out of the world without advertis- 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


215 


ing the day on which he might be expected to appear most respect- 
ably bound in boards! the idea w^as preposterous. His manner 
naturally expressed his conviction of his own intense respectability, 
and was impressive, not to say pompous; while from a sense of the 
comparative want of respectability in everybody else, it was also 
familiar, or, as his enemies (all great men have enemies) declared, 
presiiming. 

As Rose and Frere entered, he stood up to receive them, favored 
Frere with a salutation half way between a bow and a nod, 
partially extended his hand to Rose, and as she hesitated in surprise, 
hastily drew it back again; then motioning them to the only two 
chairs save his own judgment-seat the apartment contained, resumed 
his throne, and smiling graciously at Rose, leaned back, waiting ap- 
parently until that young lady should humbly prefer her suit to 
him. 

Perceiving his design. Rose glanced appealingly at Frere, wdio 
came to her assistance by plunging at once in medias res with his 
uccustomed bluntness. 

“ Well, Mr, Nonpareil,” he began, “ touching the object of our 
visit to you, 1 suppose Bracy has told you in his note w’hat we’ve 
come about?” 

” Aes — that is, so far— Mr Bracy signifies that your visit has a 
business tendency,” was the cautious reply. 

” Why, we certainly should not have come here for pleasure,” re- 
turned Frere shortly; tnen catching Rose’s look of dismay, he con- 
tinued: ” 1 mean to say we should not have thought of taking up 
your valuable time ” (here he gave Rose a confidential nudge with 
his elbow to indicate that he spoke ironically) ” unless we had a 
legitimate object in doing so.” 

In answer to this, the autocrat merely inclined his head, and re- 
vealed a highly respectable set of teeth: so Frere resumed: 

‘‘ This young lady. Miss Arundel, has determined, by the advice 
of Mr. Bracy and— ahem —myself, to make you the first offer of a 
very valuable work which she has written— er— a tale of a very un- 
usual description, peculiarly suited, as 1 consider, to the present 
state of society, pointing out certain social evils, and showing how 
a more consistent adherence to the precepts of Christianity would 
prove the only effectual remedy. ” 

At these last words Mr. Nonpareil, who, having apparently lapsed 
into a state of torpor, had listened with a face as immovable as if it 
had been cast in bronze, suddenly pricked up his ears and conde- 
scended to exist again. 

“ If 1 un-derstand you, Mr. ” “ Frere,” suggested that gen- 

tleman — ” Mr. Frere,” continued Nonpareil, “ it 1 comprehend your 
mcaulng, sir, this lady wishes to dispose of the copyright of a re- 
ligious novel?” 

‘‘ That’s it,” replied Frere. 

” Then my answer must mainly depend on the exact height of 
the principles.” 

‘‘ On the how much?” inquired Frere, considerably mystified. 

” On the exact height of the principles, sir.” returned Mr. Non- 
pareil wdth dignity; “ there is a regular scale, sir, which I have had 
worked out minutely, proceed. ing from the broad outlines of Chris- 


216 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


fianity to the most delicate shades of doctrine, and descending even 
to the smallest points of the canon law. Such an ecclesiological 
table is most important in our line. Public opinion, sir, fluctuates 
ill such mailers, just like the funds, up one week, down the next, 
up again the next. ]Sow, I’ll just give you an instance. There 
was a little work we published, 1 dare say j^ou’ve seen it, ‘ Am- 
brosius; or, The Curate Confessed.’ It was thought rather a heavy 
book w’hen it flrst came out. The public would not read it; the 
trade did not like it; it hung on hand, and 1 expected to lose from 
£200 to £300 upon it. AYell, sir, the surplice question began to be 
agitated. Fortunately, the author had made Ambrosius preach in a 
wdiite govcn. 1 immediately adveitised it freely; the thing took, we 
sold 3000 copies in a fortnight, and instead of losing £300, 1 made 
£600. But that’s not all, sir. {Shortly after that the Rev, Clerestory 
Lectern, one of the very tiptop ones, went to Rome, and took his 
three curates, a serious butler, and the family apothecaiy with him. 
This made a great sensation, convulsed the public mind fearfully, 
and brought on a general attack of the ultra-Protestant epidemic. 
Accrndingly, 1 sent for the author of Ambrosius. offered him lei ms 
he was only loo glad to jump at, shut him up in die back shop with 
half a ream of foolscap and a bottle of sherry, and in a little more 
than a week we printed oft 5000 copies of ‘ Loyolana; or. The Jesuit 
in the Chimney Corner.’ The book sold like wild-fire, sir. A 
second edition was called for, and went ofl; in no time, and 1 believe 
I might hhve got through a third, only Lord Dunderhead Downhill 
joined the Plymouth Brethren, and married his kitchen-maid, wnich 
brought public opinion up again several degrees, and spoiled the 
sale; but I made a very nice tiling of it altogether.'’ 

So saving, Mr. Nonpareil rubbed his hands gleefully, pushed his 
hair off his forehead, and looked at Rose as if he longed to coin her 
into money ou the spot. After a pause he inquired abruptly, 
“ Wliat’s the nauie, ma’am?” 

“ The name of my tale?” began Rose, slightly flurried at the 
conversation so suddenly taking a personal turn ‘‘ 1 thought of 
calling it ‘ Helen Tremorne.’ ” 

” Very good, ma’am— very good,” returned Mr. Nonpareil ap 
provingly; ‘‘euphonious, aristocratic, and vague; just at this time 
a title that does not pledge a book to anylhing particular of any kind 
is most desirable. About how long do you suppose it will be?” 

” Mr. Frere thought it would make two small volumes about the 
size of a work call^^d ‘ Amy Herbert,’ 1 believe,” replied Rose. 

'‘Quite right, ma’am, quite right, a very selling size indeed,” 
was the answer; ‘‘clever book, ‘Amy Herbert,’ very. 8o imich 
tenderness in it, ma’am; nothing pays better than judicious tender- 
ness, the mothers ol England like it to read about— the daughters 
of England like it— the little girls of England like it — and so the 
husbands of England are forced to pay for it. If you recollect, 
ma’am, there’s a pathetic governess in ‘ Amy Herbert,’ who calls 
the children ‘ dearest ’—well-imagined character that. She’s sold 
many a copy has that governess. May I ask does ‘ Helen Tre- 
morne ’ call anybody ‘ dearest ’?” 

‘‘ I leally scarcely remember,” said Rose, hiding a smile behind 
her mufl. 


LEWIS AKUKDEL. 


217 


“ It would be most desirable that she should, ma’am,” returned 
Mr. Nonpareil, solemnly. “ Some vindictive pupil, if possible, 
ma’am— the more repulsive the child, the j^reater the self-sacridce — 
people like self-sacrifice to read about— they call such incidents 
touching; and just at the present moment pathos sells immensely. 
Pray, ma’am, inay 1 ask, are you high or low? ” 

‘‘ My principles would not lead me to sympathize with the very 
ultra party on either side,” replied Rose, slightly annoyed at having 
to allude to such subjects in such a presence. 

‘‘Ah! the ma 'media, yes, 1 see— very good, nothing could be bet- 
ter. Just, at the present time the 'em 'media is, if I may be allowed 
the expression, the way that leads to fortune; nothing sells like it — 
it’s sc safe, you see; the heads of families buy it in preference to 
any more questionable teaching. May 1 ask, liave you fixed on any 
sum for which you would dispose of the copyright of your story?” 

Rose glanced at Freie, who responded to the appeal by naming a 
sum exactly double the amount which Rose, in her humility, would 
gladly have accepted. She was about to say so, but a slight con- 
traction in her companion’s brow warned her against committing 
such an imprudence. Mr. Nonpareil, however, did not appear 
alarmed at the niagnitude of the demand, but promising to peruse 
the manuscript carefully (which promise he fulfilled by^ sending it 
to his paid reader, never even glancing at it himself) and to give a 
definite answer on the day but one following, he bowed them out of 
his den in. tie most rcBpecttul manner possible. As soon as they 
had quitted the shop Rose excbiimed: ” Well, if all publishers are 
like Mr. Nonpareil, the less personal communication 1 hold with 
them the better 1 shall be pleased.” 

“Ay, but they are not,” returned Frere; “many of them are 
men of great intelligence, simple manners, and who possess much 
out of-the-way knowledge, which renders them very agreeable com- 
panions. There are pompous and narrow-minded individuals in all 
professions. Nothing is more illogical than to generalize from a 
single instance; it’s certain to lead to the most absurd results. Why, 
I’ve actually encountered an honest lawyer and met with a disinter- 
ested rascal before now! But here comes Lewis; 1 wonder what 
conclusions he has arrived at about tailors?” 


CHAPTER NXXlll, 

irOW RICITARD FRERE OBTAINED A SPECIMEN OP THE “ PODICEPS 

CORNUTUS.” 

“ Now for the Podiceps Cornutus !*' exclaimed Frere after Lewis 
had been made acquainted with the result of the interview with Mr. 
Nonpareil. 

“ iMay I ask what wonderful creature rejoices in that name?” in- 
quired Rose. 

“ You may well say ‘ wonderful creature,* ” returned Frere, en- 
thusiastically. “ It’s my belief that my precious Podiceps is the 
first specimen which has ever been obtained in this country; and, 1 
should Lmcy, it will be the last, too; for 1 don’t expect any one will 


218 


LEWIS ATirXDEL. 


be inclined to take the same amount of troTible that 1 took in order 
to get it. I was down in Liucolnsiiire last Christmas, at a place 
called Water End — so named, I should imagine, on the lucns a non 
hicetido principle, because there was no end of watei all round it. 
Well, sir ” (he was addressing liose all this time), “ Fenwick, the 
man witli whom 1 was staying, told me one day that he’d seen a bird 
when he was duck-shootiug which he’d never met with betoi’e; and’, 
by the description he gave me of it, 1 felt almost certain it must 
have been a specimen of the Podiceps Cornutus, which, as 1 dare 
say you know, is scarcely ever met with in this latitude.” 

“ You must excuse my lamentable ignoram*e,” replied Rose, smil- 
ing, “ but 1 was not even awai’e of its illustrious existence five min- 
utes ago. ” 

“ Well,” returned Frere, arching his eyebrows, “ they do neglect 
women’s educations shamefully, 1 must say! The Podiceps Cor^ 
nutus is a species of Grebe, by no means rare in Pennsylvania, where 
they winter; in summer they migrate to the fur countries, to rear 
their young; they are web-tooted; the bill is — but, however, you 
shall see my specimen, so 1 need not bother you with a long descrip- 
tion, which 1 dare say you would not understand after all; and I’ll 
tell you, instead, my adventures in pursuit of the bird The weather 
was unusually cold, the ground was covered with snow and the 
water with ice; but as soon as 1 heard of the Podiceps nothing would 
serve me but 1 must go after it. Accordingly, an amphibious old 
animal of a gamekeeper was summoned to attend me, and as soon 
as it was light the next morning off we set, and we walked through 
ice and snow till two o’clock in the afternoon each armed with a 
long duck gun, that weighed as much as a small cannon. TYe saw 
plenty of ducks, teal, and even snipes, but nothing that could by 
au}^ possibility be mistaken for a Podiceps. At last we came to a 
saU* march, as they call it — that is, a place which is all water when 
the tide is liigh, and iilluvium — fnore commonly termed mud — when 
it's low, which it happened to be at that particular epoch. Well, 
my old companion began to show signs of knocking up, and gave 
one or two broad hints that he considered w’e were engaged ^n a 
wild-goose chase in every sense of the term, and that the sooner we 
relinquished it the better: when, all of a sudden, almost from under 
our feet, up sprung a bird, and flew away like the wind. ‘ The 
Podiceps, by all that is glorious!’ exclaimed 1; and leveling my gun, 
in such excitement tlu t 1 could scarcely hold it steady, I blazed 
away, and — of course, missed it. The old gamekeeper, however, 
took the thing more coolly, and muttering ‘ Most haste, worst 
speed,’ raised his fowling-piece, and, when the bird was just at a 
nice killing distance, pulled the trigger; but the confounded gun 
hung Are, and did not go off till my Podiceps was all but out of 
shot; luckily, however, some of the shots reached him, and, just as 
1 fancied 1 was about to lose sight of him for good and all, he gave 
a sort of lurch, as if he were tipsy, and came toppling down head- 
long. 1 marked the spot where he fell, and the moment he reached 
the ground rushed off to secure him. As I was going along 1 heard 
the old fellow Pawling something after me, of which 1 only caught 
the words ‘ take care,’ but as 1 was not in the humor just then to 
take care of anything except to gain possession of my Podiceps, I 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


219 


paid no attention to him. The i)ircl had fallen on a sort of penin- 
sula-shaped bank, and along this, sometimes over my insteps in 
mud, sometimes up to my knees in water, did 1 make my way as 
fast as the ditticulties of the path would permit. The spot where the 
Podiceps had fallen proved to be much further oft than 1 had im- 
agined it, and before 1 reached it 1 was completely out of breath, 
and almost dragged to pieces by wading througii the mud in my 
heavy boots. However, 1 cared little for that when 1 discovered 
the bird lying on his back, as dead as mutton, and, on picking it 
up, perceived that it really was an actual bona fide Podiceps Cornu- 
tiis, and no mere myth created by my imagination. Delighted at 
having secured my prize, J washed the mud oft it, smoothed its 
feathers as carefully as possible, arid, wrapping it in a handkerchief, 
placed it in my pocket, and prepared to retrace my steps. But, lo 
and behold! while 1 had been admiring the Podiceps, my peninsula 
had become an island! and there was 1, liobinson Crusoe-like, sud- 
denly cut olf from my fellow-creatures. JNot a soul, or more cor- 
rectly, a body, could 1 see— my old man had disappearec* —indeed, 
so altered was the state of things by the rising of the water, that 1 
did not very well know in what quarter to look for him, or in wdii;:h 
direciion to advance in order to gain terra firma, while, to my an- 
noyance, 1 perceived that my is and was rapidly growing ‘smaller 
by decrees and beautifully less!’ ” 

“ What a disagreeable position to be placed in!” exclaimed Rose, 
much interested. “ How did you contrive to escape?” 

‘‘Well, 1 was just going to tell you if you hadn’t interrupted 
me,” n turned Frere gruffly. ” 1 made one or two attempts to dis- 
cover the route by which 1 had come, but in vain; advance which 
way 1 would, 1 only got into deeper water, and in the last trial I 
made, 1 slipped souse into a hole, and was halt drowned before 1 
could contrive to scramble out again. After this rather serious fail- 
ure, 1 began to feel that 1 was in an awkward predicament. I 
shouted, "hut no one answered, for the very sufficient reason that no 
one was within hearing. 1 loaded mj^ gim and tried to discharge it* 
but it had become wet when 1 tumbled into the hole, and obstinately 
refused to go oft. The water continued to rise rapidly, and my 
island was f Iready covered: my only hope now lay in my old man; 
the words he had bawled after me must evidently have been a warn- 
ing against the danger in which 1 had so foolishly involved myself; 
he must therefore be aware of my situation, and would suiely take 
some measures for my rescue. At all events, there was nothing for 
it but patience; 1 was unable to swim; the ground on which 1 stood 
appeared to be the highest point in the immediate vicinity, so there 
1 must remain. Perhaps, after all, my imagination had exaggerated 
the danger; the tide might not rise much higher, and the old man, 
aware of this fact, might be waiting till the waters should recede, 
lo join me and pilot me safely home. This, at all events, was a con- 
solatory hypothesis, and trying lo persuade myself it was the true 
one, 1 forced the barrel of my gun as deeply into the mud as 1 was 
able, leaned my elbows on the butt, ami. thus supported, watched 
with a beating heart the advance of the water. My feet were al- 
ready covered, and it continued to rise almost imperceptibly, and 
yet, comparing one five minutes with another, with appalling rapid- 


220 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


ity, higher and higher: it gained the calf of my leg; it approached, 
then covered my knees; inch by inch it stole on, till it reached my 
hip; the first button of my waistcoat was the next point, then the 
second, then the third, and as that also disappeared I felt my situa- 
tion was indeed becoming perilous in the extreme, and cast my eyes 
around in the vain hope of discovering some means of extricating 
myself. 1 might have saved myself the tioutle; nothing but the 
still increasing water was visible on any side. A slight breeze arose 
and rippled the surface, and now my precaution ot thrusting my 
gun-barrel into the mud stood me in good stead; but for it, 1 sliould 
have been swept away by the advancing tide, and even in spite ot 
this support I found some difidcully in preserving my foothold. My 
eyes seemed riveted by some supernatural fascination to the progress 
made by the deepening water. My waistcoat buttoned up to the 
throat with eight buttons; five of these were by this time immersed, 
the watei stood breast-high; the sixth disappeared; it was with the 
greatest diflaculty I could preserve my balance; 1 swayed from side 
to side like a drunken man. The cold was intense, my teeth chat- 
tered, and my limbs were rapidly becoming cramped and paralyzed, 
while, to add to my catalogue of miseries, the daylight began to 
fade apace. 1 gave myself up for lost, and came to the conciusion 
that if ever we were fished out, the Podiceps and 1 should be alike 
candidates for a glass case in some museum. A strange mixture ot 
thoughts ran through my brain. 1 tried to realize the idea of death. 
1 fancied the separation of soul and body, and speculated on how 
m}^ mental self w'ould feel when it saw strange fishes taking liber- 
ties witli my bodily self, without having the slightest power to drive 
them away. My {dtention was diverted from these gloomy fancies 
b}’' observing that the water appeared much longer in reaching my 
seventh button than it had been in advancing from the fourth to the 
fifth, or fro a that to the sixth, and while 1 w^as casting about to find 
a reason lor this variation, lo and behold! the sixth button once 
more became visible How was this? had 1 unconsciously shifted 
to higher ground, or was it, could it be possible that the tide had 
turned, that the water had begun lo recede? The agonizing sus- 
pense of the next five minutes was one of the most severe mental 
trials 1 have ever experienced. Though I spoke lightly on the sub- 
ject just now, 1 had in fact made up my mind to face death as a 
man and a Christian should do, and was prepared to meet my fate 
calmly and resolutel}^ but now the uncertainty, the renewed hopes 
of life struggling with the fear of a possibly approaching death, be- 
came almost unbearable, and bad the conflict been prolonged, my^^ 
presence of mind would have entirely deserted me. Less than five 
minutes, bow^ever, served to set the matter at rest; the sixth button 
was left high and dry, the fifth re-appeared, and was succeeded by 
another, and another; certain landmarks whose immersion 1 bad 
walJied witii anxious eyes again became visible, and 1 was think- 
ing ot making a final effort to reach terra firma helore the increas- 
ing darkness should throw new difilculties in the way, when m}^ ears 
were greeted by a distant ‘ Halloo I' 1 shouted in reply, ami soon 
had the satisfaction of perceiving a flat-lahtoined boat making 
toward me, propelled by my host ami the old man w hom 1 bad con- 
ceived basely to have deserted me. As they drew me, half crippled 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


221 


with cold and exhaustion, into the boat, Fenwick began haranguing 
me in a composite strain ot upbraiding and condolence, but 1 cut 
him short by raising my head as 1 lay sousing in a puddle at the 
bottom ot the punt, and murmuring in a faint voice, ‘ Never mind, 
old telloiv; it's all right, lor I'm got the Fodiceps Cornutus ' — and 
touching that same bird, here we are at the stuller’s shop; so come 
in, and Til show him to you bodily.” 

A week had elapsed since the morning on which the above con- 
versation took place, a week in which many events had occurred. 
The mighty Nonpareil, still considering ihama media a promising in- 
vestment, iiad condescended graciously to purchase Rose’s manu- 
script, and when Frere, who brought her the intelligence, placed in 
her hands a check tor £103, which, relying on her profound igno- 
rance ot business forms, he had kindly substituted tor the publisher’s 
bill at six months, she received it with a start cf delight. The girl 
was so happy! she had at length realized her darling project; she 
had, by her own exertions, helped to lighten Lewis’s burden; she 
had done something toward shortening his period ot banisiiment, 
for such she considered his enforced residence at Broad hurst. Poor 
Rose! she had not a particle of avarice in her whole nature, and yet 
never did miser rejoice over his hoards as she did over that hundred 
pounds — for it was by no means to be spent — that, fortunately, 
was unnecessary, as Mis. Arundel, albeit warning mental ballast in 
some points, was a notable housewife, and as tor Rachel, she was a 
very dragon in her care ot thal Ilesperides, the larder; so that out 
of the liberal allowance Lewds made to them, his mother and sister 
were privately saving a small fund, destined, as they fondly hoped, 
to advance at some future time his fortunes; and to this store Rose’s 
hundred pounds would make a magnificent addition. And tlie joy 
it was to her thus to dedicate it! Could she have purchased with 
It the. most desirable match in England, the hand of that identical 
young duke who was exhibited to correct radical tendencies at the 
electioneering ball at Broadhurst, his grace might have died a bach- 
elor ere Rose would have diverted the money from its appointed 
purpose. But something ought to be done with it. Rose had heard 
of compound interest; nay, she had even had its nature explained to 
her; and though at the end of the explanation she was more in the 
dark than at the beginning, she attributed that to her own obtuse- 
ness, and contented herself with recollecting that it was something 
which began by doubling itself, and went on doubling itself and 
something else, until — she did not know exactly what; so she sup- 
plied the blank by adding, until the desired result should be at- 
tained. And now, recalling the definition thus arrived at, she de- 
cided that the advisable thing would be to place her hundred pounds 
in the most favorable situation for catching that desirable epidt uiic, 
compound interest. Accordingly with much diffidence anti a just 
appreciation of the very hazy nature of her dissolving views In re- 
gard to the investment of capital generally. Rose communicated her 
ideas to Frere. That gentleman heard her out with a good-humored 
smile playing around the corners ot his mouth. ‘‘ Well,” he said, 
as she concluded, ‘‘ you are but a w^oman after all, 1 see!” 

‘‘ Why, what have you taken me for hitherto, then?” inq^uired 
Rose. 


222 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


This very pertinent inquiry appeared somewhat to puzzle the in- 
dividual to whom it was addressed, tor he pushed his hair back 
from his forehead and rubbed his chin with an air of perplexity ere 
he answered: “ if 1 were what they call a lady’s man, which means 
a conceited puppy, 1 should grin at 3^011 to show my while teeth, 
and reply, ‘ An augel;’ but seeing that man was mode a liitle lower 
than the angels — though, by the way, that’s a mistranslation-— and 
that women are inferior to men, to call a woman an angel is to be 
guilty of a logical absurdity, and is only to be excused in the case of 
lovers, who, as men laboring under a mental delusion— temporary 
monomaniacs, in fact— are scai’cely to be looked upon as raliimal 
beings.” 

” But if you are not a puppy, and 1 am not an angel, both which 
propositions 1 am perfectly ready lo admit, w’hy do you consider it 
necessary to enunciate your apparent discovery that, after all, 1 am 
only a woman?” inquired Rose. 

‘‘ Because, if you must know,” growled Frere, at length faiily 
brought to bay, ‘‘you have hitherto talked so much sense, and so 
little nonsense, that I’ve looked upon you more as a man than a 
woman. You wanted the truth, and now you’ve got it,” he con- 
tinued, in a tone like the rumbling of distant thunder, as Rose, clap- 
l)ing her hancfls in girl-like delight at having elicited this contession, 
leplieil, with a low silvery laugh, ” ] thought so! 1 fancied that w^as 
it! Oh, the conceit of these lords of the creation! And now’ that 
3’ou have found out that I am not the mental Amazon-your fancy 
painted me, do 3'ou intend quite to give me up?” 

As she said this, half-playfully, halt in earirest, raising her calm, 
gray eyes, whch now sparkled with unt^onted animation, to his 
face, Frere experienced a (to him) entirely new sensation. lie was 
for the first time conscious of the ellect produced by 

” The light that lies 
In woman’s eyes,’* 

and he felt— unreasonable as he could not hut consider it — that ho 
was better pleased with Rose as stie was than it she had been Pro- 
tessor Faraday himself; than whom (barring Sir Isaac INevvton) 
Frere’s mind was incapable of conceiving a more exalted t3’pe of 
male humanity. The w 33’’ in which he expressed the gentle senti- 
ment which had stolen into his breast was as follows: 

” Don’t talk such rubbish, but listen to a little com aion sense, and 
try and comprehend it, it 3mu can, for once in your life. You 
want this money invested f( r Leiw’s’s benefit, don’t 3'ou?” 

Receiving a repl3" in the affirmative, he continued: ” AVell, then, 
have you sufficient confidence in me lo trust it entirely in my hands 
to invest as I think best?” 

” I should be indeed ungrateful it I had not,” returned Rose, the 
tears springing to her eyes as she remembered Frere’s mari3’ acts of 
kindness to her father. 

” Pshaw! stuff! I didn’t mean anything of that kind,” rejoined 
Frere, provoked tvith himself for having recalled such distressing 
recollections, ‘‘ only you women are so ready to trust anybody till 
you’ve been let in for it tw’o or three limes, and then 3'ou’re just as 


LEWIS AKUKDEL. 


unreasonable the other way, and suspect every one, whether the}^ 
deserve it or not; however, as 1 bilieve I’m indifferent honest. I’ll 
take this money, it you wish it, and do the best I can with it. 
Lewis shall not be always a tutor if wm can help it, thou^li it’s won- 
derru! how contenled he’s growui lately — as he kicked so, loo, wdien 
he was first put in harness.” 

” You’ve observed the change, have you, Mr. Frere?” returned 
Rose interrogatively; ”1 have been rejoicing in it exceedingly ; it 
is just what 1 could iiave wished, but dared not hope for. 1 attribute 
it, in great measure, to his affection for poor Walter.” 

‘‘ Well, it may be so; no doubt the lad presents an interesting 
psychological study,” returned Frere reffentively, ” though 1 ratlier 
conceive it may be owing to his having taken a liking to—” 

‘‘ Miss Grarit and Miss Livingstone,” vociferated the Colossus of 
plush, flinging open the door with a startling vehemence, the result 
ol an ebullition of temper consequent upon a severe rebuke he had 
just received from Minerva for mispronruncing her patronymic, 
whicu interruption prevented Frere from expressing his innocent 
conviction that certain geological researches in the neighborhood of 
Broadhurst constituted the charm that had so suddenly reconciled 
Lewis to his dependent position. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

RECOUNTS ‘'YE PLEASAUNTE PASTYMES AND CUNNYNGE DEVICES” 
OF ONE THOMAS BRACY. 

Annie Grant introduced herself to Rose with that easy courtesy 
which adds so great a charm to the manners of a perfectly welb 
brea woman, and Rose, as she gazed at her, thought she had never 
beheld anything so lovely before. She w\as dressed in — Ilalte Id! 
attention, "young ladies: no, not lingim; in the amiability 
of your natures you are always ready enough to do Xh^i—faTete 
aurihus, listen and learn; for 1 myself, the chronicler of this verita- 
ble history, am about to vindicate the good use 1 made of those 
halcyon days when 

” My only books 

Were woman’s looks,” 

and to prove that ” follies ” were not all they taught me— for this 1 
assert and am prepared to maintain, that good taste in dress is not 
in itself a folly, and only becomes so when the mind of a fool (or 
fool-m, as the case may be) exalts it to an undue pre-eminence. 
Annie, be it remembered, was a blonde, with just enough of the rose 
in her cheeks to prevent the lily from producing an appearance of 
ill-health. The month was June, the London season was at its 
height, and the young lady had called upon Rose on her way to the 
second horticultural at Chiswick Gardens. Her bonnet was of 
white drip, from which a small white ostrich feather, tipped with 
blue, drooped lovingly, as though enamored of the fair face beneath 
it. A msite of light blue glace silk had been fashioned by the skill 
of an ingenious Parisian modiste, so as to suggest rather than con- 


224 


LEWIS ARUXDEL. 

ceal the exquisite form it covered, beueath >vbich the rich folds of 
a gown of pale fawn-colored Gros de Naples, as uncreased as if, 
cherub-like, its wearer never sat down, completed the costume: and 
a very becoming one it was, as Ave feel sure all young ladies of 
good taste will allow. Richard Frere, being slightly acquainted 
w'lth Minerva Livingstone, good-naturedly devoted himselt to that 
indurated specimen t.t the original granite formation, who, from her 
name and natuie, might possibly possess a geological interest in his 
eyes, and by trying to macadamize her into small-talk, enabled the 
two girls to prosecute their acquaintance undisturbed. Rose, little 
used to society, was shy and reserved before strangers, though there 
was a quiet self-possession about her which prevented her mannei 
from appearing gauche or unforiiied. Annie, on the other hand, 
being in the constant habit of receiving and entertaining guests, 
made conversation with a graceful ease which completely fascinatecl 
her companion. The only subject on wdiich her fluency appeared 
to desert her was when she spoke of Lewis, his kindness to Walter, 
and the valuable services he had lately rendered her father; but the 
little she did say showed so much good ^aste, and evinced such 
genuine warm:h of heart and delicacy of feeling, that his sister w^as 
more than satisfied, and settled in her own mind that if all the famil}^ 
were as charming in their different ways as was Miss Grant in hers, 
Lewis’s contentment with his present situation was no longer to be 
wondered at. “ What a lovely, fascinating creature!” exclaimed 
Rose enthusiastically, as the door closed on her visitors; ‘‘she is 
like some bright vision of a poet’s dream.” 

‘‘ She seems a ’cute, hard-headed old lady, but she struck me as 
having rather too much vinegar in her composition to induce one 
to covet much of her society; olives are well enough in their way, 
but a man w^ould not exactly wish to dine upon them, either,” re- 
turned Frere. 

” Whom on earth are you talking about?” inquired Rose, in aston- 
ishment. 

‘‘ Why, whom should 1 be talking about except Miss Living- 
stone?” returned Frere gruffly ; ” have you ‘ gone stupid ’ all of a 
sudden?” 

‘‘ You must have become blind,’' retorted Rose, ‘‘not to have 
observed Miss Grant’s unusual grace and beauty; 1 wonder Lewis 
has never said more about her.” 

‘‘ Bah!” growled Frere, ‘‘ do you think your brother has nothing 
better to do than to chatter about a woman’s pretty face? Lewis 
is, or was (for his opinions on the subject seem to have been modi- 
fied lately) a coufirintd nr.isogynist, aiM I’m very glad ot i:; nothing 
riles me more than to liear Uie confounded puppies of the present 
da}'^ talk about this ‘ doosed fine woman ’ oi that ‘ uncommon nice 
gal.’ If 1 happened to have a sister, or any other woman- kind 
belonging to me. and they were to make free with her name in that 
fashion, 1 should pretty soon astonish some ot tin ir exquisite deli- 
cacies. Well,” lie continued, buttoning up his coat all awry, “ I’m 
off, so good 1)}^;” and taking Rose’s hand in his own, he wrung it 
with such force that a flush ot pain overspread lier pale features. 
OViserving this, he exclaimed, ” Did 1 squeeze your fingers too 
hard? Well, 1 am a bear, as Lewis says, that’s certain.” Ashe 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


^25 


spoke he laid Ik r hand in his own broad palm, and stroking it gen- 
tly. as though trying to soothe an injured child, he continued, 
“ Poor little thing, 1 flidn’t mean to hurt it;” then looking inno- 
cently surprised, as Rose somewliat hastily withdrew it, he added: 
“ What! isn’t that right either? Well, 1 see I’d better be oft. I’ll 
look you up again in a day or two, and it you want me you know 
where to find me.” So saying, he clattered down-stairs, put (*n his 
hat hind-side before, and strode on, walking at the rate of at least 
five miles an hour. As he passed the church in Langham Place, 
he overtook two gentlemen engaged in earnest conversation: re- 
gardless ot this, he quickened his pace, and struck the younger of 
the two a smart blow on the back, exclaiming, “ Bracv, my boy, 
how are you?” 

The individual thus roughly sainted immediately reeled forward, 
as if from the effects ot the blow, and encountering in his headlong 
career an elderly female, whose dress besjwke her an upper servant 
01 thereabouts, he seized her by the shoulder, and twirled her round 
in the, bewildering, maze of an agonized and fragmentary wallz, 
which he continued till an opportune lamp-post interposed and 
checked his terpsichorean pertoimance. Before his avStonished 
partner had recovered breath and presence of mind sufficient to 
pour forth the first words of a tide of angrj remonstrance, Bracy 
interposed, by exclaiming, in a tone of the most bland civility: 

“ My dear madam, excuse this apparent libeity; really 1 am so 
completely overpowered, 1 would sink into the ground at your feet 
if it were not for the granite pavement, which is — ” 

Here the good woman, having scarcely recovered her breath, 
gasped vehemently, “ It’s very hard, so it is—” 

“ Which is,” continued Bracy, louder and with still deeper em- 
prcssement,^ “as you justly observe, so very hard; but, my dear 
madam, the facts of this case are yet harder. Let me assure you, 
my offense, if you choose to stigmatize my late lamented indiscre- 
tion by so harsh a name, was perfectly involuntary — simply an 
effect produced by a too vehement demonstration of fraternal feel- 
ing on the part of my particular friend, Mr. Frere. Allow me to 
introduce you— Outraged Elderly Lady, Mr. Frere — ]\lr. Frere, 
Outraged Elderly Lady. Ah, what a happy meeting! As the ever- 
appropriate ywan observes — ‘ Fair encounter ot two most rare 
affections!’ or again— ‘ Joy, gentle friends, joy and fresh days of 
love accompany'your hearts.’ ” 

“ Yes, it’s all wery fine,” exclaimed the outraged one (suddenly 
finding her tongue), “to go frightening respectable parties out of 
their wits, and then think to smooth ’em over with your blarneying 
words; but if 1 could set eyes on one of them lazy pelicemen, which 
is never to be found when wanted, blessed it 1 wouldn’t give you 
in charge for your imperence, so 1 would.” 

During the delivery of this speech Brac}’’ had listened in an exag- 
gerated theatrical attitude of entranced attention, and at its conclu- 
sion he exclaimed in a voice so intensely impassioned that it would 
have insured his success at any of the minor theaters: 

“ Oh! speak again; let mine enraptured ear 
Drink the sweet accents ot Ihy silvery voice.” 
b 


LEWIS ATirXDEL 


Wliicli sentiment procured for him the applause of a small male 
spectator ot the tender age of ten years, clad in much dirt and a 
pair of adult trousers, on their last legs in every sense of the term, 
who expressed liis approval by noddius: complacently and remark- 
ing: “ Wery well done; ancore, 1 says.” 

“ Come along,” exclaimed Frere, seizing Bracy’s arm, and 
almost forcing him away; ‘‘ you’ll have a crowd round you 
directly. Your companion has taken himself off long ago.” 

“So he has,” returned Bracy, looking round; ” now 1 call that 
mean to desert a friend in difficulties; more especially,” he added 
as they walked away together, ” as the said difficulties were un- 
dertaken wffiolly and solely on his account.” 

” On his account?” returned Frere in surprise; ‘‘ why, 1 should 
have thought the mighty De Granileville was the last person likely 
to appreciate a street row.” 

‘‘ For w’hich reason 1 never lose an opportunity of involving him 
in cne,” replied Bracy, rubbing his hands with mischievous glee; 
” lie can’t bear walking wdth nie, for 1 always gel him into some 
scrape or other, and injure his dignity irreparably for the time be- 
ing. 'Why, the last severe frost vve had 1 met him in Pall Mall, 
drew him on to talk of architecture, pointed out to him a mistake 
wffiich didn’t exist in the front of one of the club houses, and while 
he was looking up at it beguiled him on to a slide and upset him, 
quite inadvertently, into an itinerant oiange basket, just as Lady 

B , with whom he has a bowing acquaintance, W'as jDassiiifr in her 

carriage. Look at him now% prancing along as if all licgent Stieet 
belonged to him! Walk a little faster and we shall overtake him; 
and, by the w^ay, lend me that wonderful cotton umbrella of yours; 
I’ll make him carry it right down to the Home Office. Fou ar( 
bound for V/estminsier, are. you not?” 

” What made you guess that?” asked Frere, handing him the 
umbrella. 

” Because there’s a meeting at the Palieontological to-day at three, 
and 1 know you’re one ot their great guns,” was the reply. 

” It’s my belief you know everything about everybody,” relumed 
Frere, hiugbing. 

“And you know everything about evcryf/mir/,” returned Bracy, 
” so between us we form an epitome of human knowledge. 1 say, 
De Grandeville,” he continued as they overtook that gentleman 
” yon are a treacherous ally to desert your comrade in the momeut 
of danger. Tliat dangerous old woman abused me within an inch 
of iny lile, and wanted to give me in charge to a policeman.” 

‘‘ Knowing you have an equal aptitude for getting iuto and out of 
scrapes ot that nature ” returned De Grandeville, ” l~ar — consid- 
ered .you fully competent to the situation —and— ar — having no taste 
for bandying slang with vituperative plebeian temales, 1 lett yon to 
fight your own battles. Was 1 not justified iu doing so, Frere?’' 

” Well, Bracy being the aggressor, 1 supjDOse you w’cre,” was the 
answer; ‘‘ hut as I w^as the inuoceut first cause of the scrimmage, 1 
felt bound to remain and dragged Brac.y away by luaiu force just in 
time as 1 imagine to save him from the nails of the insulled ma- 
tron.” 

” By Jove I what a nuisance— 1 do believe I’ve broken my trouser 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


227 

strap/’ exclaimed Bracy stopping and elevating his boat on a door- 
step; “ hold this one moment wliiie I Iry to repair flamages, there’s 
a good fellow,” he continued, thrusting the umbrella into De 
Grandeville’s unwilling hand; ” I’ll be with you again directly.” 

The damages must have been serious, judging by the length of 
time they look to remedy; for ere Bracy rejoined them Frere and 
De Grandeville had proceeded halt the length of Regent Street, the 
latter carrying the umbrella — which he regarded Irom time to time 
with looks of the most intense disgust — so as to keep it as much 
out of sight as possible, even secreting it behind him whenever he 
perceived a fashionably dressed man or woman approaching. 

” 1 was trying to recollect that very interesting anecdote you told 
me of the attack on the barrack in Galway when you were staying 
with the 78d— Frere has never heard it,” observed Bracy, as he re- 
joined his companions. 

Now this said anecdote related to an episode in De Giandeville’s 
career to which he delighted to refer, and w hich accordingly most 
of those who boasted the honor of his acquaintance had heard more 
than once. Such, indeed, was the case wdth Frere, and he was just 
going to say so, when he caught a warning look from Bracy, which 
induced him to remain silent. 

” Ar— really, it was a very simple thing,” began De Grandeville, 
falling into the trap most unsuspiciously; ”1 happened to know 
several of the 73d fellows who were quartered down in Galway at a 
place called— ar — here’s your umbrella.” 

” 1 beg your pardon! 1 did not quite catch the name,” returned 
Bracy, who, having buried his lingers in the pockets of his paletot, 
did not seem to have such a thing as a hand about him. 

” At a place called Druminabog,” continued De Grandeville; 
” the country was in a very disturbed stale; one or two attacks of 
a rather serious character had been made upon the police, and the 
militarj' had been called out to support them; ar — here’s your uni — ” 

“Was it three or four years ago that all this took place?” in- 
quired the still handless Bracy. 

“ Four years on the second of last April,” returned De Grande- 
ville. 

” Are you sure it wasn’t the first?” muttered Frere aside. 

‘‘ 1 was traveling on a business tour in the sister land,” contin- 
ued the narrator, ” and, meeting Osborne, a 73d man, who was go- 
ing down to join his regiment, he persuaded me to come on with 
him to Druminabog — ar — here’s your—” 

” Was that Tom Osborne who sold out when the Rifles were go- 
ing to Ceylon?” interposed Bracy, studiously ignoring the proffered 
umbrella. 

The victimized De Grandeville replied in the affirmative, and, re- 
suming bis tale, soon grew so deepl} interested in the recital of his 
own heroic exploits that the umbrella ceased any longer to afflict 
him; nay, so absorbed did he become that in a moment of excite- 
ment, just as he was passing the Horse Guards, he waved that arti- 
cle in the air, and led on an imaginary company of the 78d there- 
with after the fasliion of gallant commanders in panoramas of 
Waterloo and battle scenes enacted at the amphitheater of Astley. 
As they approached the Homo Office, and De Grandeville had ar- 


228 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


rived at the concludiug sentence of his narrative, which ran as fol- 
lows: “ And so, sir, the major shook me warrul}^ by the hand, ex- 
claiming, ‘ De Grandeville, you’re worthy to be one ot us, and 1 
only wish you were, my boy!’ ” the trio paused, and Bracy, ex- 
tracting one hand from the pocket in which it had l)een reposing, 
remarked, with the air ot a man who considered himself slightly 
aggrieved, but meant to make the best ot it: 

“ Now, if you please. I’ll trouble you for my umbrella; 1 did not 
like to interrupt your story by asking for it sooner, but now, if you 
have no objection, 1 shall be glad ot it.” 

‘‘ Certainly,” replied De Grandevlle, only loo glad (his attention 
being once more attracted to it) to get rid ot his incubus. 

As Frere turned aside to hide a laugh, Bracy inquired: ” By the 
way, De Grandeville, do you dine at Lady Lombard’s next Tues- 
day?” 

” 1 do,” replied Frere, ” and 1 suppose it’s to be one of her Lord 
jMayor’s feasts, as 1 hear she’s beating up recruits in all quarters.” 

” Ar — really— I’ve received an invitation— but 1— ar — ’pon my 
word 1 don’t know whether one’s justilied in going to such places; 
one must draw the line — ar— some where. ” 

” It will be a first-rate feed,’ resumed Bracy. ‘‘ Lady Lombard’s 
chefi^ a capital hantl, and her wine is by no means to be despised.” 

“ \es, but the woman nerself,” rejoined De Grandeville, in a 
tone ot the deepest disgust, ” just retrace her degrading career— ar 
— not an ancestor to begin the world with.” 

‘‘ Well, 1 should have supposed she possessed her fair share in 
Adam and Noah, too,” remarked Frere dryly. 

‘‘ Plebeian in origin,” continued De Giaiuleville, not heeding the 
interruption, ” she sinks herself still lower by espousing first a 
pickle-merchant, second y, a pawnbroker; the first — ar —repulsive, 
the second sordid.” 

” She did not play her cards altogether ba:lly, though,” observed 
Bracy. ” Old Giikin died worth a plum, and Sir Pinchbeck Lom- 
bard was a millionaire, or thereabouts.” 

” Money, sir,” returned De Grandeville sententiously, ” is by no 
means to be despised, and those who afiect indifference on the sub- 
ject usually do so to screen a grasping and avaricious temperament; 
but money becomes really respectable only when it enables those 
who are connected with the old historcal lamiles ot England, those 
in whose vens runs the ‘ blue blood of aristocracy,’ fir assert their 
rightful position as Ic*rds of the soil. Among the landed gentry of 
England are to be found—” 

” Some thoroughly jolly fellows,” interposed Bracy; ‘‘ especially 
to show you the way across country, or help to kick up a shindy at 
the Coal Hole. But we must part company hen'; Frere’s booked 
for the Paloeontological, and 1 am going to attend a committee at 
the House; you’ll be at Lady Lombard’s?” 

” 1 shall give the matter full consideration,” returned De Grande- 
ville. ” It is — ar — by no means a step to decide on hastily. In 
these leveling days men of — ar — position are forced to be particular 
as to the places to which they afiord the — ar — sanction ot their 
presence. 1 wish you a very good-morning.” So saying, he raised 
his hat slightly to Frere, drew himself up with his broad chest well 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 229 

thrown forward, and marched off ma.iestically, like a concentrated 
squadron of heavy dragoons. 

“ Here’s your umbrella, Frere,” remarked Bracy, handing it to 
him as he spoke; “ many thanks for tlie loan. 1 don’t wonder you 
are careful of it; it’s a most inestimable property, and has aHoriled 
me halt an hour’s deep and tranquil enjoyment; but of all the pom- 
pous tools that ever walked the earth, (3(Vdiii(\Qv\\\Q\s, ^acAle princeps.'' 
“ He’s no fool either,” returned Frere. 

‘‘Then why does he behave ‘dssich?'' demanded liracy. “His 
conceit and egotism are inconceivable. He’s a regular modern Oy- 
clops; he has one great ‘ I ’ in the middle of his forehead, through 
the medium of which he looks at everything. One really feels an 
obligation to poke fun at that man. Well, 1 can’t accuse myself of 
neglect of duty in that particular, that's a consolatory reflection; 
but he’s enough to convert Ihe slowest old anchorite that ever 
chewed peas into a practical joker.” 

“ He was severe on the excellent Lady Lombard,” observed his 
com pan ion. 

“ You did not notice his remark about riches being respectable 
only when in the possession of ‘ —ar— those connected with the old 
histoiical families of England ’? That gave me a new idea.” 

“ A thing always worth having, it but tor its rarity,” replied 
Frere. “ What was it?” 

“ Why, it occurred to me what fun it would be to marry him to 
Lady Lombard— more particularly after his abuse of her to-day.” 

“A project more easy to conceive than to execute,” returned 
Frere, laughing. 

“1 don t know that,” answered Bracy confidently; “if 1 once 
set my mind on a thing, 1 general I}’’ contrive to accomplish it; it did 
not at first sight appear likely that De Grandeville would carry your 
old cotton umbrella through some of the most lashionable streets in 
London at three o’clock in the afternoon, yet you see he did it.” 

“ Toii’re a remarkable man, my dear Bracy, and there’s no use 
in dem/inej of it; but if you can induce Marmaduke de Grandeville 
to marry the widow of the pawnbroker and Ihe pickle-man, you 
must be the very — well, never mind who— here we are at the 
PaUeoiitological.” 

So sa3dng, Frere shook hands with Bracy, and the oddly consort- 
ed companions, between whom their very eccentricities appeared to 
constitute a bond of sympathy, each went his way, the practical 
joker to apply his acute intellect to the details of that mighty ma- 
chine, the executive government of England, and the savant to in- 
vestigate the recently discovered small rib (it was only eight feet 
long) of a peculiar species of sometliing osaurus, the original pro- 
])rietor of the rib being popularly supposed to have “lived and 
loved,” cut its awful teeth, and been gathered to its amphibious 
fossil forefathers two thousand years and some odd months before 
the creation of man. 


230 


LEWIS ARUNDEL, 




CHAPTER XXXV. 

WHEREIN IS FAITHFULLY DEPICTED THE CONSTANCY OP THE 
TURTLE DOVE. 

It was the important Thursday on which Lady Lombard’s chief 
diiiner-pariy ot ihe seasou was to take place, and the mighty coining 
evt nl cast a proporliouate shadow before — for a clay or two previous 
a gloum, as of an approaching tempest, hung over the devoted 
mansion: visitors were scarce; the invited would not call because 
they weie invited and the non- invited avoided the place as though it 
were haunted, lest it should be supposed they wished to be invited, 
which for the most part they did. As the event drew nearer, signs 
appeared heralding its approach; shoals ot fishmongers, laden with 
tlie trcfisures of the deep, poured down the area steps; the number 
of 03 " 8 teis which entered that house would have surpiised Neptune 
himself; squadrons of poulterers’ men brought flocks of feathered 
fowls and of fowls unfeathered; there was not a single species of 
edible ornithology of which Lady Lombard did not possess one or 
more specimens— she would have ordered a Podiceps Gormitus had 
she ever heard of such a creature. The eighty-guinea advertisement 
liorse, with the plated harness, in Messrs. Fortniim& Mason’s spring- 
cart, began to think his masters must have established a depot in 
the Far West, and that he was engaged in transporting thither the 
major portion of their seductive stock. In the interior of that 
dwelling liouse confusion reigned supreme. Upstairs Mrs. Per- 
quisite, the housekeeper, rendered life a burden to the female serv- 
ants, and lyranuized over her hapless mistress till tree-will became 
a mockery mentioned in connection with that much- thwarted widow. 
It was enough for Lady Lombard to express a wish; Mrs. Perqui- 
site, a living embodiment of the antagonistic principle, was instantly 
ill arms to oppose it. 

“ What, your ladyship!” would she exclaim (and be it observed 
her voice was at least an octave higher than any eood-tempered 
woman’s ever was, and pitched in a most aggravating key); ” what, 
not uncover the marble table! 1 never heard of such a thing! Her 
ladyship will have it taken off, Jane — not uncover that bootiful Paria 
marble! inlaid with Lappus Lazily. Why, your ladyship must be 
a-dreaming.” 

‘‘ 1 thought that the satin cover matching the chairs, and having 
poor dear JSir Pinchbeck’s arms embroidered on it, perhaps it might 
have been better to leave it on, Mrs. Perquisite,” pleaded Lady 
Lombard meekly. 

” Of course your ladyship can do as your ladyship pleases; if 
your ladyship chooses to let yourself down by looking after such 
things, which was never the case when 1 lived with the Dowager 
Marchioness of Doubledutch, now no more, having remembered all 
her faithful servants handsomely on her death-bed, without a dry 
eye about her, in the 76th year of her age. Perhaps I had better 
go down stairs, which am only in the way, and your ladyship can 
dirtct Jane to set out the rooms according to your ladyship’s fancy.’* 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


231 


Pool Lady Lombard, when once that defunct dowager marchion- 
ess was let loose upon her, telt that her fate was sealed. It was not 
for her, the widow ot a man who had been knighted, to lly in the 
face of (he peerage; so she humbly authorized the removal of the 
Lombard arms, implored Perquisite to arrauge the rooms as she had 
been accustomed to set out those of the poor dear maroliioness, and 
betook herself to the sanctity of her own boudoir, leaving the field 
to the virago, to whom she paid £60 per annum for keeping her in 
a continual state of moral bondage. 

But while such scenes as the foregoing were enacting in the upper 
portions ot the establishment, the French chef de cumne, Monsieur 
Hector Achille Abelard d’Haricots was niaiving a perfect pande- 
monium of the lower regions. 'I'he physical energy displayed by 
that ardent foreigner was truly admirable; his ubiquit>"*was marvel- 
ous; the tassel at the top of his white cap appeared to have been 
multiplied infinitesimally, and to pervade space— the sound of his 
polyglot exhortations and reflections re-echoed through (tie lofty 
servants’ offices. Wonderful were the strange oaths he poured 
forth when Antoine, a long, limp, shambling French lad, sou 
eleve, zie son of — hMas ! baigne des larines, he even till at present 
could scarcely pronounce her name— his angelic sister, since some 
time entombed, having espoused un brave Anglais, his long-lost 
Hose Ainelie Marie Antoinette de Brownsrnit, nee d’Haricols 
when this unworthy ofiapriug ot international alliance committed 
some unpardonable artistic error, and unlike “ Polly ” of lyrical 
celebr-ity, did not “ put the kettle on,” or ” take it oil again,” ex- 
actly at the critical moment. Deep and nasal were his ejaculations 
when some obtuse butcher’s bo}^ would not understand his ” An- 
glishe,” which that somewhat apocryphal personage, '\cebrave gar^ 
^011 Brownsrnit ” (who was Hector Achille’s Mrs. Harris, and was 
consequently brought forward on all occasions) had declared he 
spoke like a native. 

Mais, que diable ! vot is zies?” he would exclaim, raising his 
eyeglass to examine, with a face of deep disgust, a shin of beef; 
” vot is zies? Did 1 not ordaire iin gigo\, vot you call a leg of shin, 
and ’ere you have transported to me— «/i, que c'est degoutant—zie 
stump ot a cow: quails soni bUes, ces Anglais — takes ’im avay, ” 

But if there were earthquakes and tornadoes in the culinary and 
decorative departments, ditficalties hydra-headed had arisen in the 
boudoir of Lady Lombard, where sat a council of three, Hose mere- 
ly acting as secretary, and writing just what she was bidden. The 
third privy councilor (besides the giver ot the feast and Mrs. Aiun- 
del) was a certain Mrs. Colonel Brahmin, relict of the late Colonel 
Brahmin, which gallant oflScer had been cut ofl in the piime of life, 
together with 200 tawny privates of the — (h native infantry, by 
tailing into an ambush of armed Sikhs, headed by JMeer Ikan 
Chopimatoo, at Choakumcurree. After this aftlicting event, Mrs. 
Colonel Brahmin returned to England, in the thirty third year of 
her age, with a small pension, a very becoming widow’s cap, and an 
earnest desire to replace the victim ot Ikan Chopimatoto’s ciineter 
without loss of time. 

Now, in bygone hours, the lamented Sir Pinchbeck Lombard, in 
las capacity of East India director, had known and patronized the 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


OQO 


lamented Brahmin; what, theretore, conkl be more natural than 
that their disconsolate widows should desire to mingle their tears? 
And, indeed, Mrs. Colonel Brahmin w^as so anxious to insure the 
effectual working of this mutual-mise*-y-miugling association, that 
on her return to"£ngland she Was good enough to stay six months 
with Lady Lombard; and although, during the wdiole of that 
period, she told every one she was anxiously looking out for a house, 
so few edifices are there in London and its vicinity that she was un- 
able to find one till the very week l>efore her hostess was about to 
start on a self-defensive tour to the lakes. Since then she had been 
viziei -in-chief to her wealthy sister in alfliction — riding in her car- 
ritrge, eating her dinnerg, and entertaining her guests, especially 
such eligible males as appeared likely to succeed to the (nominal) 
command left Vacant by the cut-oli colonel; but up to the present 
time these young eligihles had remained unattached, and the ap- 
pointment was still to be filled up. Mrs. Brahmin w^as not really 
pietty, though by dint of a pair of fine eyes, glossy hair, a telling 
smile, and little white hands, she contrived to pass as such. In her 
manner, she affected the youthful ■and innocent: and very well she 
did it, considering her natural astuteness and the amount of experi- 
ence and smoir 'civre she had acquired when following the world- 
wide fortunes of the cut-off one. Lady Lombard believed in her to 
a great extent, and liked her better than she deserved. Perquisite 
saw at a glance, not only through, but considerably beyond her, and 
hated her with all the rancor of a vulgar mind. But Mrs. Bralimiu 
was too strong for Perquisite, and with her soft voice and imper- 
turbable simplicity put her down more tlioroughly than the veriest 
virago could have done: the housekeeper’s most bitter speeches and 
cutting innuendoes producing much the ^aine effect on the mild 
8usanna that a blow might have done upon an, air-cushion, viz., ex- 
hausting the aggressor’s strength without making the slightest im- 
pression on her opponent 

Mrs. Brahmin had been prepared to find in Mrs. Arundel a danger- 
ous rival, and was ready to defend her position to the death, and do 
battle d Vouimnce for her portion of the Lombard loaves and fishes. 
Blit her courage was not destined to be put to the proof, tiie present 
being an occasion on which an appeal to arms w^as unnecessary. 
Diplomacy would suit her purpose better, and on diplomacy, there- 
fore, she fell back. She had not been ten minutes in Mrs. Arundel’s 
company ere she discovered her w'eak point — she was unmistakably 
vain. Acco^dingl 3 ^ with artless simplicity, Mrs. Brahmin indirect- 
ly praised everything Mrs. Arundel said or did, and Mrs. Arundel 
straightway suffered her discrimination to be tickled to sleep, took 
Mrs. Brahmin at her own price, and doted on her from that time 
forth, until— but we will leave events to develop themselves in their 
due course. 

Kose and Mrs. Brahmin wet e mutual enigmas — neither could com- 
prehend the other. Rose had heard the “ C/hopimatoo ” affair, and 
all her S3^mpathies were ready to be enlisted in behalf of the interest- 
ing wddow; but the “ sweet simplicity,” cleverly as it was done, did 
not deceive her. With the instinct of a true nature she felt that it 
was assumed, and that beneath it lay the re;d character. VV liat that 
might be remained to be discovered— and she suspended her judg- 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


233 


mcnt till opportunity mi^^lit afford her a ^^limpse of that which was 
so studiously concealed. On the other hand, the charactei of Rose 
was one which Mrs. Biahmin could by no means comprehend, per- 
haps, because, in its entireness, it was beyond and above her com- 
prehension; but parts of it she discerned clearly enough, and most 
particularly did they puzzle her. For instance, he perceived that 
Rose had a mind, properly so called — that her ideas and opinions 
were bona fide the product of her own intellect, and not, like those 
ot too many girls, a dim reflex of somebody else’s; but the straight- 
forward, earnest truthfulness of her nature she could by no means 
fathom, such a quality bein<r essentially foreign to her own disposi- 
tion; accordingly, she deemed it put on for a^^purpose, which pur- 
pose it behooved her to find out. But her investigations did not 
prosper well from the simple fact that ex nihilo Rose, hav- 

ing nothing to conceal, concealed it most effectual ly. 

Many and important were the consultations held in the boudoir 
by this council of three as to who should and who should not be 
invited. Lady Lombard’s smooth brow grew furrowed wdth the 
unwonted demand upon her powers (?) of mind. 

“Sir Benjamin and Lady Boucher regret exceedingly that a pre- 
vious engagement prevents their accepting Lady Lombard’s kind 
invitation for Thursday, the — th.” 

“Dear me, how dreadfully provoking!” sighed the perplexed 
“ invitress.” “ My dear Susanna ” (the Brahmin’s Christiari name), 
“ the Bouchers are engaged, and there’ll be nobody fit to meet the 
General Gudgeons. What are we to do?” 

“ Would you ask the Dackerels? They’re such very nice peo- 
ple, and Jive in such very good style, dear Lady Lombard,” cooed 
Mrs. Brahmin (tor, be it observed, that bereaved one’s method of 
speaking, together with the low, gentle, sleepy, caressing tones of 
her soft voice, involuntarily reminded her hearers of the cooing of 
a dove or the purring of a cat). 

“ They’re only lieutenant-colonels, are they, my love?” inquired 
Lady Lombard doubtingly. 

“Oh! my dear Lady "Lombard, surely you must recollect lie has 
been a full colonel, by pui chase, these five years, rice Raw hone 
Featherbed, who sold out and married an heiress — at least,” mur- 
mured Innocence, remembering herself, or rather her yart, “ slie 
was said lo be rich; but, of course, it must have been a love match. 
1 can not believe people are so — so horrid as to many for any other 
motive.” 

“ Well, then, we’d better ask the Dackerels. Miss Arundel, my 
love, will you request the pleasure of Colonel and Mr. Dackerel’s 
company (with one I only) at seven o'clock. That shy son with the 
long legs, I suppose we need not ask him, my dear?” 

“ He’s lately come into a large Yorkshire propeity from an uncle 
on the mother’s side, and has taken the surname of Dace, and, per- 
haps, as he’s so shy, he might feel hurt at not being asked. 1 feel 
such sympathy with shyness, you know; besides somebody said he 
was an author,” rejoined Susanna, dropping her eyelids and look- 
ing as unconscious and disinterested as if John DaceDackerel Dace, 
Esq., barrister at law, still depended upon that ghost of nothing, 


234 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


his professional income, instead of the rent-roll of the manor of 
Roachpool, in the West Riding. 

“ It they come they’ll make — let me see,” mused Lady Lombard, 
“ what did 1 say the Fitzsimmonses were? yes, twelve; well, then, 
they’ll make fifteen, and the table only holds three more, and that 
tiresome Mr. De Grandeville hasn’t sent an answer yet, and 1 shall 
be so disappointed it he does not come, for he knows everybody and 
moves in such high society, and is such a tall, noble, military-look- 
ing creature.” 

This eulogium, recalling, probably by contrast (seeing that the 
lamented Brahmin had been remarkably small of his age all through 
his boyhood, and never outgrown it aflerward), sad recollections of 
the fair Susanna’s killed and wounded, produced a little embroid- 
ered handkerchief which just held the two tears its owner felt called 
upon to shed on such occasions. The memory of the victini had 
been so often before embalmed by pearly drops in her presence that 
Lady Lombard had grown rather callous on the subject, and she 
abruptly invaded the sanctity of grief by exclaiming: 

‘‘ It lies between the Lombard Browns and the Horace Hiccorys, 
my dear, lire Hiccorys live in better style, 1 know; Mrs. Hiccory 
was to have been presented at court last year, only little Curatius 
was 1)01 n instead — the most lovely child!— but the Lombard Browns 
are godsons, at least he is, of poor dear Sir Pinchbeck’s, and 
they've not dined here this season.” 

” 1 think, dear Lady Lombard, if I might venture to advise, the 
Horace Hiccorys would do best. Mrs. General Gudgeon would get 
on so wdl with Mrs. Hiccory, I’m sure; and I’m afraid Mrs. Dack- 
erel — you know she’s very clever — writes poetry, those sweet things 
in the ‘ ifijou ’ — all clever people are sarcastic, you know— I’m afraid 
Mrs Dackerel might laugh at poor dear Mr. Lombard Brown’s little 
eccentricity about liis H’s.” 

*‘ A.h, yes, that’s true,” returned Lady Lombard, ” yes, 1 forgot 
his li’s.” 

” As he probably does himself,” whispered Mrs. Arundel aside to 
Rose. 

” Then, ray dear Miss Arundel, may 1 trouble you to write a 
note to the Horace Hiccorys (with one I, my love), 15 Bellair’s Ter- 
race, Park Village, West. What a pretty hand you write, and so 
quick] Then, it Mr. De Grandeville will only came, the table will 
-be filled piopeiiy.” 

' “And a dear, charming party it will be,” cooed the bereaved 
-one, who had maneuvered herself into an invitation at an early 
-stage of the proceedings. 

‘‘\e8, ray love, I hope it will,” replied the giver of the feast 
anxiously, “ and if 1 was quite sure that Perquisite and Havricot 
would not quarrel, and that General Gudgeon would not take too 
much port wine after diun(;r, and tell his gt ntleman’s stories to the 
ladies up in the drawing-room, more particularly since 1 hear Miss 
MacSalvo has taken an extra-serious turn lately, 1 should feel quite 
hiippv about it all,” 

” You’d better add a postscript to the great Gudgeon’s note, men- 
tioning tile port wine and its alarming consequences, Rose,” whis- 


Lewis arukdel. 236 

pered the incorrigible Mrs. Arundel. Her daughter smiled leprov- 
ingly, and the sitting concluded. 

Exactly at the time when Lady Lombard had completely given 
him up, and was revolving in her anxious mind how she might best 
supply his loss, De Grrandeville condescended graciously to vouch- 
safe a tavorable answer. On the afternoon of the eventful day, as 
Frere was returning from his place of business, he met— of course 
accidenlally — Tom Bracy, who immediately took possession of his 
vacant arm, and engaged him in a disqiiieitiou on the use of tornic 
acid as an anaesthetic agent, which discussion proved so deeply in- 
teresting to his companion that in less than five minutes he' was 
completely lost to all outward objects, and reduced (ft)r all practical 
purposes) to the intellectual level of a docile child of three years old. 

“ Well,’* continued Frere, eagerl 3 , as Bracy paused before a hair- 
dresser ’s shop, “ well, supposing — for the sake of argument, 1 
consent to waive my objection— supposing 1 allow that by the pro- 
cess you describe, you've produced your acid — ” 

“ Excuse my interrupting you one moment, but 1 was going in 
here to have my hair cut; if you’re not in a particular hurry, per- 
haps you’ll come in- with me, and I mink 1 can show you where 
you are wrong.” 

” Yes — no, I’m not in a hurry; come along; I’m convined there’s 
a mistake in your theory which upsets your whole argument — 
merely subject to the common analyzing process—” 

” By the way,” observed Brac 3 % carelessly, ” you’d be all the bet- 
ter for a little judicious trimming yourself; besides, it’s more soci- 
able. This gentleman and 1 both want our hair cut. Sit down, 
Frere.” 

“Eh? nonsense; I never have m 3 ^ hair cut except when the hot 
weather sets in,” remonstrated that individual; but he was fairly 
in the toils. Bracy set a garrulous hairdresser’s man at him, who 
deprived him of his hat, popped him down in the appointed chair, 
and enveloped him in a blue-striped wrapper, b3fore he very well 
knew where he was or had arrived at any kind of decision wlialso- 
evtr on the subject. No soouer was he seated than Bracy adminis- 
tered a fresh dose of his anaesthetic agent; Frere resumed his argu- 
ment, and long ere he had exhausted the calalugue of chemical tests 
to which his opponent’s theory (invented for the occasion) might be 
subjected, the hair-cutter (previousl 3 '’ instructed) had reduced his 
hair and whiskers to the latitude and longtitude usually assiened to 
such capillary attractions by the ‘‘manners and -customs ot ye 
English in ye nineteenth century.” And tlius Frere became for 
the time being, a reasonable-looking mortal, and Bracy won a new 
bat, which he had betted that morning with a mutual acquaiutance 
on the apparently rash speculation that he would before the day 
was over administer an anaesthetic agent to Biehaid Frere, under 
the influence of which he should have his iiaii cut. 

Dear R( se Arundel (excuse us the adjective, kind reader, but we 
own to being very fond of her), having been a perfect god^iml to 
everybody all day long, having thought of ever 3 dl)ing, and done 
everything, and looked on the bright side of evtiy thing, and sacii- 
ficed herself so pleasantly that an uninitiated beholder might have 
believed she was intensely selfish, and doing it all tor I er own per- 


23G 


LEAVIS ARUNDEL. 


sonal gratificatioD— Rose, luivioir, among other gymnastics of self- 
devotion, rim up and down-stairs forty-three times in pursuit of 
waits and strays from Lady Lombard’s memory, comndtted the first 
bit of selfishness she had been guilty of all day by sitting down 
to rest for five minutes before she began her toilet; and leaning her 
forehead on her hand, she thought over her own chances of pleas- 
ure or amusement during the evening. She had had one disap- 
pointment; Lewis had been invited, and Lewis would not come. 
He did not say he could not come, but he put on what Mrs. Arun- 
del called his “ iron face,” and said shortly, “ the thing was impos- 
sible;” and no one could have looked on his compressed Ups and 
doubted the truth of the assertion. It grieved Rose, for she read 
Ills soul as if it were an open book before her and she saw there 
pride, that curse of noble minds, still unsubdued. Lady Lombard 
patronized them, and Lewis could not submit to witness it. Rose 
had hoped better things than this; she had not failed to observe the 
change that had taken place in her brother during his residence at 
Broadhurst; she saw that from an ardent, impetuous boy he 
had become an earnest-minded, high-souled man, and in the 
calm dignity of his look and bearing she recognized the evi- 
dence of conscious power, chastened by the discipline of a mind 
great enough to rule itself. Nor was she wrong in her con.iect- 
iires; only she mistook a part for the whole, anil arguing wdth 
the gentle sophistry of a woman’s loving heart, concluded that 
to be finished which was but in fact begun. Lewis had learned to 
control (except in rare instances; his haughty nature, but he ri lied 
loo much on his own strength, and so he had failed as yet to sub- 
due it. Rose too honest to disguise the truth, from herself 
w’hen if was fairly placed before her, and she acknowledged with 
an aching heart that the great fault of her brother’s character yet 
remained unconquered. Poor Rose! as this conviction forced itself 
upon her, how »he sorrowed over it. lie was so good, so noble, 
and she loved him so entirely — oh! why was he not perfect? It 
Lewis could have read her thoughts at that moment, he would have 
assuredly made one of the guests at Lady Lombar-d’s hospitable 
board. 


CHAPTER XXXVl. 

DESCRIBES THE HUMORS OF A LONDON DINNER-PARTY IN THE 
- NINETEENTH CENTURY. 

As the clock struck the half hour, forming ihe juste milieu be- 
tween seven and eight, post meridian, the goodly company assem- 
bled in Lady Lombard’s drawing-room, being warned by the portly 
butler that dinner was served, paired off and betook iliemselves, two 
by two (like the animals coming out of Noah’s Ark, as represented 
in the dissecting puzzles of childhood) to the lofty dining-room, 
where much English good cheer, disguised under absurd French 
names, awaited them. During the short time that Bracy had been 
in the house he had not been altogether idle. He first took an op- 
portunity of informing l^ady Lombard that I)e Grandeville was 
directly descended from Charlemagne, and that he was only waiting 


LEWIS ARUKEEL. 


^237 

till the death of an opulent relative shoiihl render him independent 
of his profession to revive a dormant peerage, when, it was gene- 
rally supposed, his colossal intellect and unparalleled legal acumen 
would render him political leader ot the House of Lords; he then 
congiatulated her on her good fortune in having secured the pres- 
ence of this illustrious individual, who, he assured her, was in such 
request among the aristocracy of the kingdom that he was scarcely 
ever to be found disengaged; and wound up by running glibly 
through a long list of noble names with whom he declared the 
mighty Marmaduke to be hand and glove. Accordingly, good 
Lady Lombard, believing it all faithfully, mentally elected He 
Grandeville to the post of honor at her right hand, deposing for the 
purpose no less a personage than Gene'fal Gudgeon. When we 
say no less a personage we speak advisedly, for that gallant offi-. 
eer, weighing sixteen stone without his snuff-box, and being fully 
SIX feet high, was, if not exactly “ a Triton among minnows,” at 
all events a Goliath among Gudgeons, which we conceive to be 
much the same thing. 

Having achieved his object of placing De Grandeville in exactly 
the position he wished him to occupy, Lracy next proceeded to 
frustrate a scheme which he perceived the fair Susanna (who was 
his pet detestation) to have originated for the amatory subjugation 
and matrimonial acquisition of John D.ickerel Dace, Esq., of Roach- 
pool, in the West Riding. John I>. D. had a weakness, bordering 
on a mental hallucination; he fancied he was born to be a popular 
author — “ to go down to posterity upon the tongues ot men,” as he 
liimself was wont to express it — and the way in which he attempted 
to fullill his exalted destiny, and effect th(i wished-for transit, md 
these unruly members of his fellow-mortals, was by writing mild, 
dull articles, signed J. D. D., and sending them to the editors of 
various magazines, by whom they were always unliesitatiugly re- 
jected. The frequent repetition of these most unkind rebuffs" and 
of the consequent delay in the fulfillment of his mission had tended 
to depress the spirit (at no time an intensely ardent one) ot John 
Dace Dackeiel, and had induced a morbid habit of mind, through 
which, as through a yellow veil, he took a jaundiced view of society 
at large; and even the acquisition ot the surname ol Dace and his 
accession to the glories of Roachpool had scarcely restored cheerful- 
ness to this victim of a postponed destiny. Bracy, tiom his con- 
nection with “ Blunt’s Magazine,” knew him w^ell, and had rejected 
on’y a fortnight since a forlorn little paper, entitled ” The Curse ot 
Genius; or, the Trammeled Soul’s Remonstrance;” in which his 
own cruel positiou was touchingly shadowed forth in the weakest 
possible English. Accosting this son ot sorrow in a confidential 
tone of voice, Braev bi'gan: 

” As soon as you can spare a minute to listen to me, I’ve some- 
thing rather particular to tell you!” 

” To tell mef* returned the blighted barrister, in a hollow voice, 
suggestive of an}^ amount ot black crape hatbands; ” what ill news 
have 1 now lo arm, or 1 may say, to steel ray soul against?” and 
here, be it observed, that it was a habit with this pseudo-aulhor to 
talk, as it were, a rough copy of conversation, which he from time 


LEWIS AKUK13EL. 


.V38 

to time corrected by the substitution ot some word or phrase which 
he conceived to be an improvement upon the orijjinal text. 

“ Perhaps ii may be good news instead of bad!” remarked Bracy 
encouragingly. Tlie blighted one shook his head. 

“ Not for me,'"' he murmured; then turning to Susanna, he con- 
tinued: “ Excuse my interrupting our conversatiim, but this gentle- 
man has some intelligence to impart — or 1 may say, to break to 
me.” 

JMrs. Biahmin smiled sweetly, such a sympathetic smile that it 
went straight throuj^h a black satin vvaistcoat with a cypress wreath 
embroidered on it in sad-colored silk, and reached the” crushed and 
withered ” heart of J. 1). D. 

” You know,” continued Bracy, ” 1 was obliged, most unwill- 
ingly, to decline that touching little thing of yours. The— what 
was it? the Cough ot Genius?” 

” The Curse,” suggested its author gloomily. 

‘‘ Ah! yes. 1 read it cough— you don’t write very clearly— yes, 
‘ the Cursing Genius.* You know, my dear Dace, we editors are 
placed in a very trying position. A great responsibility devolves 
upon us; we are scarcely tree agents. Now, your article affected me 
deeply ’’ (this was strictly true, tor he had laughed over the most 
tragic touches till the tears ran down his cheeks); ” but ] was 
forced to decline it. 1 could not have put it in if my own brother 
had wiiilen it. You will naturally ask, why ? — Because it did not 
suit the tone of ‘ Blunt’s Magazine!’ ” — and as Bracy pronounced 
these aw till and mysterious words, he shook his head, and looked 
unullerable things; while the ” child of a postponed destiny,” see- 
ing the shadow of a still further postponement clouding his dark 
horizon, shook his head likewise, and relieved his elaborately woi Ked 
shirt front ot a sigh. 

” But,” resumed Bracy, ” thinking the paper much too original 
to be lost, I took the liberty ot handing it over to Bulbait, the editor 
ot the ‘ 011a Podrida.’ YVell, sir, I saw him this morning, and he 
said—” 

” What?’' exclaimed the fated one eagerly, a hectic tinge coloring 
his sallow cheek. 

” Don’t excite yourself, my dear Dace,” rejoined Bracy anxiously; 
** 3mu’re looking pale; too much brain work, I’m afraid. You must 
take care ot yourselt; so many of our greatest ireniuses have died 
young. But 1 see you’re impatient. Bulbait said— he’s a very 
close, cauti( us character, never likes to commit himself, but he 
actually said he'd think about it !” 

” Was that all?” groaned the disappointed Dace, relapsing into 
despondency. 

All I my dear sir? all! W'hy, wdiat would you have? When a 
man like Bulbait says he’ll think about a thing, 1 consider it a case 
ot opus operatum — reckon the deed dune. If he meant to refuse 
your paper, what need has he to Ihink about it? No, Mr. Dace, if 
you’re not correcting a proof of the * Cough ’ — pshaw, * Curse.’ I 
mean (when one once takes a wrony, idea into one’s head how diffi- 
cult it is to get it out again!), before the week is over, I’m no 
prophet. By the wav,” he continued, as Rose, looking better than 
pretty in the whitest ot muslin frocks, resigned a comfortable seat 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


239 


to a cross old lady in a gaudy turban, which gave hei the appear- 
ance, from the neck upward, of a plain male Turk, liberal^ en- 
dowed with the attributes commonly f ssigned to his nation by 
writers of fairy tales and other light literature for the nuisery, among 
which man-stealing and cannibali?in are two of the least atrocious — 
“ by the way, 1 must introduce you to this young lady; a kindred 
soul, sir, one of the most rising authoresses of the day.” 

“ JSo, really,” began the Dace, dapping about in the extremity 
of his shyness like one of his fishy namesakes abstracted from its 
native element. 

“ Nonsense,” resumed Bracy, enjoying his embarrassment. 
“ Miss Arundel, let me have the pleasure of making you acquainted 
with one of our youths of genius, a man to whom a liberal posterity 
will no doubt' do justice, however the trammeled sycophants of a 
clique may combine to delay his intellectual triumphs.” Tlieu in 
an aside to J. D. D., he added, “Make play with her; Bulbait 
wants her particularly to write tor the ‘ 011a,’ and she hangs back 
at present; she would merely have to say a word to him, and you 
might obtain the run of the magazine.” 

Thus urged, John Dace Dackerel Dace, Esq., called up all the 
energies of his nature, and by their assistance overcoming his nat- 
ural sheepishness, he caused to descend upon Rose a torrent of pa- 
thetic small talK which overwhelmed that young lady till dinner was 
announced, when ne claimed her arm and floated with her down 
the stream of descending humanity until he found himself safelj^ 
moored by her side at the dinner-table. Having thus, as he would 
himself have expressed it, taken the change out of that odd fish 
Dace, and frustrated for the time being the matrimonial tactics of 
the Brahmin’s widow. Bracy was making his way through the vari- 
ous groups of people in search of Miss MacSalvo, which ardent 
Protestant might, he considered, afford him some snort if judi- 
ciously handled, when he was suddenly intercepted by the innocent 
Susanna, who inquired, “Pray, Mr. Bracy, can you explain this 
wonderful metamorphosis in your friend Mr. Erere? he’s grown 
quite handsome.” 

Thus appealed to, Bracy regarded attentively the individual in 
question, wiio was good-naturedly turning over a book of prints for 
Lady Gudgeon, a little shriveled old lady, so deaf as to render con- 
versation a matter of politeness under difficulties. Having appar- 
ently satisfied himself by this investigation, Brac}' replied, ” To the 
best of my belief 1 should say he had only had his hair cut, and was 
for once dressed like a gentleman.” 

” He is w’ondertully clever, is he not?” inquired the lady. 

” Clever!” repeated Bracy, “ that’s a mild word to apply to such 
acquirements as Fiere possesses. He knows all the lanmiages, liv- 
ing or dead, has gained an intimate acquaintance with the aits and 
sciences, has sll the ‘ ologies ’ at his fingers’ ends, and is not only 
up in the history of man since the creation, but will tell you to a 
fraction how many feeds a day kept a mastodon in good condition 
two or three thousand years before we tailless monkeys came into 
possession of our landed property.” 

“ 1 suppose, as he dresses sc strangely in general, that he’s very 
poor; all clever people are, 1 believe,” returned Susanna, with an air 


:240 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


of the most artless naivete, the idea havinj? for the first time oc- 
ciiired to her iheii, ;faut& de mieux, the philosopher might do to re- 
place Ibe man of war. 

Bracy read her thoughts, and kindly invented a few facts and 
tiiriires, by which he increased Frere’s income about sevenfold, and 
gave him a magnificent slock of expectations, of the realization 
whereof not the most forlorn hope ever existed. 

Having Uone this small piece of mischief also, he continued bis 
seaich after Miss MacSalvo. The result of these machinations was 
that Lady Lombard signified to De Grandeville that he was to liund 
her down to dinner; John Dace Dackeiel Dace, Esquire, performed 
the same oflice by Rose, much to the disgust of Richard Frere, who 
had intended to secure that pleasure for liimself ; and who being, at 
the moment in which he lirst became aware of his misfortune, capt- 
ured by the Brahminical widow, whose silky manner he could not 
endure, went down-stairs in a frame of mind anything but seraphic. 
Mrs. Arundel contrived to gain possession of General Gudgeon, 
with a view, as she observed to Bracy, to discovers firstly, his 33 ^ 8 - 
tem of feeding, which, from its results, she felt sure must be an ex- 
cellent one; and, secondly, to insure his obtaining a liberal supply 
of port wine, to the end that she might satisfy a reprehensible curi- 
osily a-T to the precise nature of the “gentleman’s stories’’ Lady 
Lombard was so anxious to suppress; which act of vm-Eiigluh- 
woman- like espieglene must be set down to the score of a foreign 
education, than which we know not a better receipt for unsexiug 
the minds of the daughters of Albion. When we add that Bracy, 
wdth a face of prim decorum, escorted Miss MacSalvo, a gaunt 
female whose strict principle appeared to have warred with the tlesh 
so edectually that there was little more than skin and bone left, we 
believe we have accounted for every member of the party tor wliorn 
out readers are likel}* to ferd the slightest interest. 

During the era of the fish and soup, by which our modern dinners 
are invariably commenced, little is discussed except the viands; but 
after the first glass of sherry mute lips begin to unclose, and con- 
versation flows more freely. Thus it came about that John Dace 
Dackerel Dace. Esquire, of the Inner Temple (we admire his name 
so much that we lose no opportunity of repeating it), having re- 
volved in his mind some fitting speech wherewith to accost the 
talented young authoress, of whom he felt no inconsiderable degree 
of dread, fortified himself with an additional sip of sherry ere he 
propounded the very original inquiry whether Miss Arundel was 
fond of poetry. Before Rose could answer this query, her neigh- 
bor on the other side, one Mr. James Rasper, a very strong young 
man with a broad, good-natured dullish face, demanded abruptly, 
in a jovial tone of voice, whether she was fond of rilling. 

As soon as she could collect her senses, scattered by the raking 
fire of this cross-examination. Rose replied that she was particularly 
fond of some kinds of poetry, which admission she qualified b}" the 
apparentl}^ inapposite restriction, “ When she was on a very quiet 
horse. ” 

.1. D. D. was about to follow up his attack by a leading question 
about the gushing pathos of the bard of Rydal, when Rasper pre- 
vented him by exclaiming, “ No! — do you really?’’ (which he called 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


2a 


** railly ”). “ Then 1 know just the animal (hat would suit you.” 

And having thus mounted his liobby-horse, he dashed at everything, 
as was his wont when once tairly oil, and rattled away without 
stopping till dinner was finished, and he had talked Rose completely 
stupid; while the unfortunate Dace, foiled in his weak attempt to 
captivate the influential authoress, plunged again into the deep 
waters of affliction, where, pondering over this further postponement 
of his destiny, he sunk, and was heard no more. 

Exactly opposite to Rose and her companions sat Frere and the 
simple Susanna, who, laboring zealously at her vocation — viz., hus- 
band-hunting — threw away much flattery and wasted an incalcula- 
ble amount of “sweetness on the desert air,” To all her pretty 
speeches Fiere returned monosyllabic replies, in a tone of voice 
suggestive of whole forests full of bears with sore heads, while a 
cloud hung heavy on his brow, and his bright e 3 ^es flashed envy, 
hatred, malice, and all uncharilableness at the unconscious James 
Rasper. At last Susanna chanced to inquire whether he was tond of 
music; and as, without falsifying facts, he could not answer this 
negatively, he was forced to reply, “ Yes, 1 like some sort ot music 
well enough.” 

“ Some sort only, ’ returned Susanna, in a tone of infantine artless* 
nes. “ Oh! you should like every kind, Mr. Frere. 1 never hear a 
merry tune without longing to dance to it; and pathetic music 
aflecls me even to tears. But what class of music is it that you 
particularly prefer? — thovigh 1 need scarcely ask — operatic, of 
course. ” 

“ Not 1,” growled Frere, “ I hate your operas.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Frere!” exclaimed Simplicity, fixing its large eyes re- 
proachfully upon him, “ you can’t mean what you sa 5 ^ Not ld<c 
operas! Why, they are perfectly delicious. Look at a well-filled 
house— what a magnificent coup d'ociV 

“ A set of pigeon-holes full of fools and a long row of fiddlers,” 
rejoined Frere; “ 1 can’J see much to admire in that. 1 went to 
one of your operas last year, and a rare waste of time 1 thought it. 
It was one ot Walter Scott’s Scotch stories bewitched into Italian. 
There w’as poor Lucy of Lammermoor dressed out like a fashiona- 
ble drawing-room belle, singing duets all about love and murder 
with a pale-faced mustachioed puppy, about as much like Edgar 
Ravenswood as 1 am like the Belvedere Apollo; a brute engaged 
on the strength of a tenor voice to make love to all and sundry tor 
the space ot four calendar month'’, for which ‘ labor ot love,* he is 
paid to the tune of £500 a mouth, a salary on which better men than 
himself contrive to live tor a whole year. Then Lucy’s cruel mam- 
ma, who is the great feature in the novel, is metamorphosed into a 
rascally brother, who growls baritone atrocities into the ears of a 
sympathizing chorus ot indigent needle-wmmen and assistant car- 
penters, who act the nobility and the gentry" of Scotland at halt a 
crown a head and their beer. The fiist act is all love, the second all 
cursing and confusion, and the third all murder and suicide, and 
that’s what people call a pleasant evenng’s amusement. The oniy 
thing that amused me was in the last scene, when the stipendiary 
lover kills himself first, and sings a long scena afterward. 1 thought 
that very praiseworthy and persevering of him, and if I’d been 


212 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


Lucy, siicli a little attention as that would have touched me partic- 
ularly, and 1 dare say it would have done her, only — seeing that 
slie had died raving mad some five minutes before, and was then 
drinking bntiled porter for the good of her voice— she was perhaps 
scarcely in a situation to appreciate it.” 

“ But if you don’t like the singing, 1 dare say you prefer the bal- 
let?” suggested Susanna. 

” No, 1 don’t,” was the short, sharp, and decisive reply. 

” Not like the ballet? Oh! Mr. Frere, w’hatcan be your reason?’* 
inrpiired the surprised turtle-dove. 

‘‘ Well, 1 have a reason good and sufficient, but I sha’n't tell it to 
you,” growled Frere; tnen muttered as an aside, which was, how- 
ever, sufficiently audible — ‘‘ A set of jumpius: jezebels, skipping 
aboul iu white inuslin kilts, tor they’re nothing more; respeclahle 
people ought to be ashamed of looking at ’em.” Having enunciated 
this opinion, Frere cast a doubly ferocipus glance at jVlr. Rasper, 
then eloquently describing to Rose the points of his favorite hunter, 
and relapsed into surly monosyllables, beyond which no amount of 
cooing could again tempt him. 

JMai maduke de Grandeville, enthroned in state on the right hand 
of the lady of the house, gazed regally around him, ind, in the 
plenitude of his magnificence, was wonderful to behold. But, 
after all, he teas human, and the evident depth and reality of Lady 
Lombard's admiration and respect sottened even him, and ere long 
he graciously condescended to eat, drink, and talk— n'lt like an 
ordinary mortal, for that he never did, but like himself. For in- 
stance, the topic under discussion being the new Houses of Parlia- 
nn*nt. then in even a more unfinished state than they are at present, 
De Grandeville elaborately explained the Whole design, every detail 
of which he appeared to have at his fingers’ ends — a fact tor which 
he accDunh d when he allowed it to be understood that— ” ar — he 
had — fir — given Barry a hint or two — ar— that Barry was a very 
sensible fellow, and not above — ar— acting* upon an idea w'hen he 
saw it to be a good one;” and it must be owned that as De Grande- 
vilh* had only once been in Mr. Barry’s company, on wdiich occa- 
sion he had sat opposite to him at a public dinner, he had made the 
best use of his lime jiud had not suffered his powers of penetration 
to rust for want of usp. Having in imagination put the finishing 
stroke to the Victoria Tower (one of the furthest stre dies of fancy 
on record, we should conceive), he contrived to work the conversa- 
tion round to military matters, set General Gudgeon right oa sev- 
eral points referring to battles in the Peninsula, at which the geu- 
er*al himself had been present, and gave so graphic an account of 
■Waterloo that to this day Lady Lombard declares be acted as Ama- 
teur Aidi*-de-Camp and Privy Counselor in-Chief to liie Duke of 
Wellington on that memorable occasion. He then talked aboirt the 
De Grandevibe estates till every one present believed him to be an 
immense landed proprietor, and w^ound up by the anecdote of VVill- 

f m of Normandy and the original De Grandeville, which, with a 
ight biographical sketch of certain later wuirlhies of the family (one 
ot whom. Sir Solomon de Gifiudeville, he declared to have sug- 
gested to King Charles the advisability of hiding in tire oak), lasted 
till the ladies quitted the room, when, by Lady Lombard’s request. 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 24.1 

he assumed her vacant chair, and did the honors with dignified 
courtesy. 

Bracy, who cluriog dinner had appeared most devoted to Miss 
MacBalvo, now endeavored to render himselt universally agreeable. 
He applauded General Gudgeon’s stories, and plied him vigorously 
with port wine, which, as Mrs. Arundel had taktn care the servants 
did not neglect to replenish his wine-glass at dinner, began to tell 
upon him visibly. He elicited the names, pedigrees, and pert or m- 
auces ol all Mr. James Rasper’s horses, and received from that fast 
young man a confidential statement of his last year’s betting ac- 
count, together with a minute detail ot how he had executed that 
singular horticultural operation yclept “ hedging on the Oaks,” 
during which dry recital his throat required constant moistening 
with wine, in spite of which precaution his voice grew exceedingly 
thick and husky before the sitting concluded. On two individuals 
of the party, however, all Bracy ’s eflorts were thrown away J'rere 
continued silent and moody, only opening his lips occasionally, 
shortly and sternly to contradict some assertion, and re]a]'»sing into 
his former tacturnity; while J. D. D sat silently bewailing his post- 
poned destiny over a glass of water and two ratafia cakes, which 
seemed to possess the singular property ot never diminishing. 

At length the gentlemen arose to go upstairs, a matter easily ac- 
complished by every one but General Gudgeon, who made three un- 
successtul attempts to gel under way, and then looked helplessly 
round for assistance. Bracy, the ever -ready, was at hand in an in- 
stant. 

‘‘ My dear general, let me lend you an arm. You’re cramped from 
sitting so long.” 

‘‘ Tha-a-auk you, my dear bo o-oy,” returned the gallant officer, 
who appeared to have been seized with a sudden wild determination 
to alter the English language by dividing monosyllables inlo three 
parts, and otherwise fancifully to embellish his molher-tongue. 
‘‘ Tha-a-ank you! It’s that contou-wow-wow-nded gun shot 
wound in my knee-ee. 1 got it at Bu-Bu-Bu — no! not Bucellas. 
What is it, ehf” 

“Busaco,” suggested Bracy, fearing he had overdosed his pa- 
tient. 

However, when once the general got upon his legs, he used them 
to better advantage than might have been expected, and proceeded 
upstairs, “rolling grand.” as that prince of clever simple biogra- 
phers (to use one of Mrs. Browning’s adjectives), Boswell, said ot 
his ponderous idol. Encountering Frere at the foot of the staircase, 
he stumbled against that gentleman with so much force as nearly to 
knock him down. As he recovered his footing, Frere turned angri- 
ly toward his assailant; but his irritation changed to an expression 
ot (jontemptuous pity as his eye fell upon the white hair of General 
Gudgeon, and stepping on one side, he allowed him to pass. He 
was quietly following when Mr. James Rasper, who had witnessed 
his discomfiture with an ill-bred laugh, attempted by way of a stu- 
pid practical joke to repeat General Gudgeon’s involuntary assault, 
and reckoning Frere a good-natured, quiet sort of person, not likely 
to reseat such a jest, pretended to stumble against him and pushed 
past him when about half-way up the first flight of stairs. Never 


244 


LEWIS AKUKLEL. 


dill a man (to use a common but foicible expression) “ mistake bis 
customer ” more completel 5 ^ In an instant Frere’ had collared 
him, dnigi^ed him down a step or two, then, retaining his grasp of 
the coal-coilar, seized him by the waistband of his trousers, and by 
a great exertion ot strength swung him clear over the balusters, low- 
ered hini till his feet v^ere about a yard from the floor, and then let 
him drop. After which performance, having glanced round to see 
that his victim was not injured by the fall, ne coolly pursued his 
way upstairs. 


CHAPTER XXXVll. 

IS IN TWO FYTTES, VIZ.: FYTTE THE FIRST, A SULKY FIT — FYTTE 
THE SECOND, A FIT OF HYSTERICS. 

Frere reached the drawing-room in a state of mind which the 
occurrence related in the last chapter had not tended to render a: ore 
amiable. The front room was evidently the more popular of the 
two, a numerous group being gathered round Mrs. Biahmin, who 
in the sweetest of mild sopranos was daintily cooing fortli a plaint- 
ive love-ditty, which was evidently telling well with John Dace, 
D. D. Avoiding the crowed, Frere made his ♦\’ay into the back 
drawing-room, which, barring an ardent flirtation in a corner be- 
tween two poor 3 mung things who could not by the most remote 
possibility marry for the next fifteen years, was unoccupied. Here 
seating himself astride a chair as if it had been a horse, and leaning 
his arms on the back, he fell into a deep fit ot musing. From this 
he was roused by the approach of a light footstep, and looking up, 
perceived Rose Arundel. 

“ Why, Mr. Frere,” she exclaimed fflayfully, ”1 do believe you 
were asleep; will you not come into the other room? Mrs. Brahmin 
is singing like a nightingale, and charming eveiybody.” 

“ Niglitingales are humbugs, and 1 hate singing women in gen- 
eral, and abominate Mrs. Brahmin in particular, so I’m better where 
I am,” was the grump.y reply. 

Rose had often before received speeches from Frere quite as rude 
as the present one, but in this instance there was a peculiarity in his 
method of delivering it which at once struck her attention. Usually 
his liearish sayings w^ere accompanied by a half smile or merry 
twdnkle of the eye, which proved that he was more than half in jest, 
but now there was a bitter earnestness in his tone which she had 
never before remarked, and Rose felt at once that somi thing had 
occurred to annoy him; so she quietly drew a chair to the table near 
which he was seated, and carelessl}' turning over the pages of a 
book of prints which la}’’ before her, observed: 

” If you are not to be tempted within the siren’s influence, and 
positively refuse to be charmed with sweet sounds, 1 suppose I am 
bound by all the rules ot politeness to remain here, and try to talk 
you into a more harmonious frame of mind.” 

” Pray do nothing of the kind,” returned Frere, “ unless you’ve 
some better reason than a mere compliance with what you please 
to term ‘the rules of politeness,’ tor they’re things 1 trouble my' 
head abouc mighty little. Besides,” he added sarcastically, ‘‘your 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


245 


new friend, Mr. James Rasper, must have found his way upstairs 
by this time, 1 should imagine, and 1 would be sorry to deprive you 
of the pleasure of his intellectual conversation, more particularly 
as you seem to appreciate it so thoroughly.’' 

“ How viciously you said that!'’ returned Rose, smiling; “but 
tell me, are 5 "ou really angry? have I done anything to annoy you? 
I’m sure it’s most unwittingly on my part if J have;’’ and as she 
spoke she looked so good, and so willing to be penitent for any pos- 
sible offense, that a man must have had tlie heart of an ogre to have 
resisted her. Such a heart, however, Frere appeared to possess, for 
he answered shortly : 

“Mo, I’ve no fault to find with yon. 1 dare say it’s quite ac- 
cording to the ‘ rules ot politeness ’ to cast off old friends, and lake 
up with new ones at a minute’s notice, tliough they may contrive 
to talE about horses till they prove themselves little belter than 
asses to the mind ot an unprejudiced auditor. There is your 
friend conversing eagerly with Bracy, asking no doubt what has 
become of you.’’ 

“ You are very unjust, JMr. Frere,’’ returned Rose, looking hard 
at her book and speaking eagerly and quickly; “ INIr. Rasper is no 
friend ot mine; 1 scarcely knew his name till you mentioned it. He 
sat next me at dinner, and talked to me about horses and galloping 
over plowed fields after foxes, till 1 became so stupid that 1 had 
scarcely two ideas left in my head, but of course 1 was bound to 
attend to him civilly. So much for my new friend, as you call him; 
what you mean by my casting off old ones 1 don’t at all know; 1 
have done nothing of the kind, that 1 am aware of.’’ 

“ Mo, you have not,’’ returned Frere, recalled to his better self b}^ 
loose’s harangue; “ it is 1 who am, as you say, unjust and absurd, 
but the fact is that 1 wanted to talk to you myself. All these good 
people are bores, more or less, none of ’em able to converse ration- 
ally tor five minutes together. 1 meant to have handed you down 
to dinner, but that silky, scheming widow got hold of me instead, 
and irritated me with her bland platitudes; and then 1 heard that 
idiot prating to you about horses’ legs, and 5 "ou appeared so well 
satisfied with him, wdien 1 knew that you were one of the few Wom- 
en who could understand and appreciate better things, that alto- 
gether 1 grew savage, and could gladly have punched my owm head 
or any one else’s.’’ 

“It is quite as well Mr. Rasper was on the opposite side ot the 
table to you,’’ resumed Rose, “ or you might have carried out your 
theoretical inclinations by practicing on him, and then we should 
have had a scene.’’ 

Frere looked a little awkward and conscious as he replied: 

“ Though 1 am a bear, 1 am not quite such a savage animal as 
all that comes to; 1 do not give the fatal hug unless 1 am attacked 
first.’’ 

At this moment Bracy and Mr. Rasper, whose backs w^ere turned 
toward them, approached within earshot. The latter appeared much 
excited, and Rose heard him say: 

“ it’s no use talking; I’ve been grossly insulted, sir, and if you 

won’t take my message to him, by I’ll take it myself, and give 

him as good as he gave me, or perhaps a little better.” 


ARUNDEL. 

Frere heard him also, and a flush of auger passed across his feat- 
ures. 

“ My dear Rasper, yoiUre excited,” returned Bracy soothingly; 
” 1 did not witness the affair certainly, hut 1 can not think that any 
insult was intended. Frere is rough in his manner, but tlie best- 
hearted telbwin tlie world.” 

“ i dcn’t know what ^/on may consider an insult, Mr. Bracy; but 
taking a man by the collar, and swinging him over the balusters 
like a cat, at the risk of his neck, is quite insult enough tor me, one 
lor which I’ll have satisfaction, too.” 

“Hush, my dear fellow, you’ll attract general attention if you 
speak so loud. Here, come aside witli me, and we’ll talk the matter 
over quietly.” 

So saying, he drew Rasper’s arm within his own, and led him 
through a side door which opened upon the staircase Involuntarily 
glancing at his companion, Frere perceived her eyes riveted on his 
features with an expression of alarmed inquiry. 

” Well, what’s the matter?” he demanded, answering her speak- 
ing look. 

” What is that man so angry about?” returned Rose breathlessly; 

what have 3^ou been doing?” 

Nothing very wonderful,” rejoined Frei*e coolly, ” The young 
gentleman, as 1 suppose one is bound to call him, drank rather 
more wine than was prudent, and fancying 1 looked a quiet, easy- 
tempered kind of person, by way of a dull jest, indulged himself 
with falling against and rudely pushing by me on the staircase, and 
1, not being at the moment inclined for joking, did, as he very truly 
observed, swing him like a cat over the balusters, where, cat-like, 
he fell upon his legs.” 

“Ob, Mr, Frere, how could you do such a thing? And now he 
is dreadfully angry, and talked about sending you a message, which 
means that he wants to fight a duel. Mr. Frere, j'ou will not fight 
with liim?” and as Rose spoke, her pale cheek fiusUed with un- 
wonted animation, and tears, scarcely repressed, glistened in her 
earnest eyes. 

“ What do you think about it?” returned Frere, looking at her 
with a kind smile. 

“ Oh, I think, 1 hope, you are too good, too wise, to do such a 
thing. For Lewis's sake, for the sake of all your friends, you will 
refrain.” 

“ For a better reason still, my dear, warm-hearted little friend,” 
returned Frere kindly, but solemnly; “tor God's sake 1 will not 
break His commandment, or incur the guilt of shedding a fellow- 
creature’s blood. But,” he added, “all this folly has frightened 
you;” and, as he spoke, he took her little treiuhiing hand in his, 
and stroked it caressingly, and this lime it was not withdrawn. 

“Then you will apologize, 1 suppose,” Rose observed, after a 
short pause. 

“ Well, we’ll hope that may not be necessary,” returned her com- 
panion, “ seeing that Rasper, the infuriated, was more to blame in 
the afl:air than 1 was; but if the good youth is so obtuse that noth- 
ing less will soothe him, Isupposel must accommodate his stupidity 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 247 

by cloin^ic so. It is a less evil to pocket one's dignity for once in a 
way than to murder or be murdered in support of it." 

At this moment Bracy entered the room solus, with such a vexed 
and anxious expression of countenance that Freie, who guessed 
rightly at ihe cause, could, though he liked him the better for it, 
scarcely forbear smiling. 

“ Go back to your singing widow," observed Prere to Rose, “ and 
when 1 have administered his sop to Cerberus, 1 will come and tell 
you what wry faces he has made in swallowing it." 

Rose fixed her eyes on him with a scrutinizing glance, and, read- 
ing in his honest face that ha was not deceiving her, smiled on him 
approvingly, and rising quietly, mingled with the company in the 
front drawing room. 

‘ "1 say, Frere," began Bracy, as Rose disappeared, “I’m sadly 

afraid you have got into a tiresome scrape. That young tool. Ras- 
per, declares you’ve pitched him over the balusters." 

“ A true bill so far, and richly he deserved it," returned Frere. 

“ 1 can well believe that," was Bracy ’s reply, “ tor he w^as more 
than half -screwed when he left the dinner-table; but Ihe shake ap- 
pears to have sobered him into a state of the most lively vindictive- 
ness. However, it s no laughing matter, I can assure you; he has 
sent you a message by me, and means fighting." 

“ lie may, but 1 don’t," returned Frere shortlv. 

“ My dear B'rere, 1 wish I could make you understand that the 
affair is serious. Rasper’s determined to have you nut. 1 can 
make no impression upon him, and you can’t refuse to meet a man 
after pitching him over the balusters," rejoined Bracy, in a tone of 
annoyance. 

“ Can’t 1 though?" returned Frere, smiling. “ I’m not of such 
a yielding disposition as you imagine. \Yhere is the sweet youth?" 

“ 1 left him in the cloak-room," answered Bracy; and, ns Frere 
immediately turned to descend the stairs, continued: “ ’Pon my 
w^ord, you’d better not go near him: he’s especially savage. Depend 
upon it, you wdll have something disagreeable occur." 

" Do you think I’m going to be forced into fighting a duel, a sin 
of the first magnitude in my eyes, because I’m afraid of meeting 
an angry boy? You don’t know me yet," returned Frere sternly; 
and, without waiting further parley, he ran down-stairs, followed 
by Bracy, with a face of the most comic perplexity. The door of 
the cloak-room stood half open, and at the further end of the apart- 
ment might be perceived the outraged Rasper, pacing up and down 
like a caged lion, “ nursing his wrath to keep it w-arm." Unintimi- 
dated even by this tremendous spectacle, Frere walked up to his 
late antagonist, holding out his hand. 

“ Come, Mr. Rasper," he said, “ this has been a foolish business 
altogether, and the sooner we mutually forget it the better. Here’s 
my hand: let's be friends." 

That this was a mode of procedure on which Mr. Rasper bad not 
calculated was evident, as well by his extreme embarrassment as by 
his appearing completely at a loss what course to pursue. For a 
moment he seemed halt inclined to accept Frere’s piofl:ere»l hand; 
but his eye fell upon Bracy, and probably recalling the threats he 
had breathed forth in the hearing of that worthy individual, he telt 


248 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


tliat his dignity was at stake; and giving himself a shake, to re- 
arouse his indignation, he replied: “ 1 shall do no such thing, sir. 
You have grossly insulted me, and 1 demand satisfaction.” 

“ Excuse me,” returned Frere quietly, “ 1 did not insult you: 1 
simply would not allow you to insult me; no man worthy of the 
name would.” 

“ It’s no use jangling about it like a couple of women. 1 consider 
that you have insulted me: what you may think matters nothing to 
me. I have been insulted, and 1 require satisfaction, and I will 
have it, too,” reiterated Mr. Rasper, talking himself into a pas- 
sion. 

Now listen to me,” returned Frere impressively; ‘‘you are a 
younger man than 1 am, and have probably, therefore, more of life 
before you. You are of an age and temperament to enjoy life 
vividly. There are many that love you; I can answer for three, for 
1 met your mother and tw^o sisters at Lord Ambergate’s a fortnight 
since, and the good lady entertained me halt an hour with your 
praises. Why, then, seek to throw away your own life and im- 
bitler theirs, or to bring upon your head the guilt of homicide, en- 
tailing banishment from your home and country, and other evil 
conseijuences, merely because, having drunk a few extra glasses of 
wine, you sought to play oft a practical joke upon me, and I, not 
being at the moment in a jesting humor, retaliated upon you, as you 
or any other man of spirit would have done in my situation? Come, 
look at it in a common-sense point of view; is this a cause for 
which to lose a life or take one?” 

After waiting a moment for a reply, during which time Rasper 
stood gnawing the finger of his white'glove in irresolution, Frere 
resumed: 

” If 3 ^ou’re sorry for your share in the matter, I’m p riectly 
willing to own that 1 am for mine; and now, once more, luie's my 
hand— what do you say?” 

” Say? that you're a regular out-and-oui good fellow, and that 
I’m a d— d ass, and beg your pardon heartily,” w^as the energetic 
rejoinder; and bringing his hand dowm upon Frere’s with a suiack 
that re-echoed through the room, Raspe! and his late antagonist 
shook hands with the strength and energy of a brace of giants; and 
then, both talking at once with the greatest volubility, they ascended 
the stairs arm in arm, Biacy following them with his left eye fixed 
in a species of chronic winK, expressive of any amount of the most 
intense satisfaction and sagacity. As they re-entered the drawing- 
room Rose, whose powers of hearing, always acute, wherein the pres 
ent instance rendered still more so by anxiety, caught the following 
words: ‘‘ Then 3 "ou promise you will dine with me at Lovegrove’s 
on Thursday, and I’ll pick up half a dozen fellows that 1 know 
you’ll like to meet, regular top sawyers, that you’re safe to find in 
the first flight, be it where it may.” 

‘‘ Only on condition that you come to my rooms on Criday, and 
bring your brother, and we’ll show you sporting men how we hook- 
worifis live— Bracy, we shall see you?” 

” You’ll dine with us too, at Blackwall, Mr. Bracy,” rejoined 
the first speaker, who was none other than the redoubtable Kasper; 
—and numerous other genial sentences, of like import, reached the 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


ear an^l comforted the heart of that little philanthropist, Hose Arun- 
del, who could no more bear to see her tellow-creatures disagree 
limn could Dr. Watts, when in his benevolence he indited that pretty- 
hymn which begins: 

“ Let dogs delight to bark and bite, 

For ’tis their nature to — !” 

then proceeds to state the interesting ornithological fact that 

“ Birds in their little nests agree/’ 

and touchingly appeals to the nobler instincts of childhood, in the 
pathetic metrical remonstrance : 

“ Those little hands were never made 
To tear each others’ eyes/* 

Ohi excellent and prosy Vl'atts, uoer of dull moral platitudes into 
duller doggerel, co-tormentor with Pinnock and the l.aliu grammar 
of my early boyhood, would that loi thy sake 1 had the pen of 
Thomas Carlyle, for then would 1 write thee down that which I 
suspect thou wast, my Watts, in most resonant un-English, nay, 1 
would make thee subject of a “ Latter-Day Painphlel,*’ and, treat- 
ing of thee in connection with the vemio quostio of prison discipline, 
would by thy aid invent a new and horrible punishment for refrac- 
tory felons, who in lieu of handcuffs and bread and water, hard 
labor or solitary confinement, should straightway be condemned to 
a severe course of “ Watts’s Hymns/’ 

Thomas Bracy, his mind being relieved from the onus of this 
rather serious episode in his evening’s amusement, now cast his eyes 
around to discover how the various schemes projected by his fertile 
brain might be progressing. The first group tnat met his eye 
afforded him unmixed satisfaction— Lady Lombard, seated on a low 
fauleuil, was listening with delighted attention to De Grandeville, 
who, hanging over her, was talking eagerly about himself with an 
ail of the most lover-like devotion. The next pair that his glance 
fell upon scarcely pleased him so well, for Mrs. Brahmin Had again 
hooked the Dace, and appeared in a fair way of landing him safe- 
ly. “ However,” reflected Brac}^ ” one comfort is, that he’s such 
an awful fool, he will bore her to death in less than a week after 
they’re married, and she’ll revenge herself by flirting with every 
man she meets, which is safe to worry him to distraction, and they’ll 
be a wretched, miserable couple; so I really believe there’ll be more 
comedy evolved by letting them alone than by interfering with 
them;” and consoling himself by this agreeable view of the matter, 
he turned his attention to the state, mental and physical, of General 
Gudgeon. That gallant son of Mars, as though conscious of the 
hopes and fears that were abroad concerning his possible behavior, 
was taking the best method of neutralizing the dangerous effects of 
his devotion to Bacchus, by composing himself to sleep in a mighty 
arm chair. Next him was sealed Miss MacSalvo, who was en- 
gaged in a truly edifying conversation with Mrs. Dackerel, mother 
to the ” postponed one,” on the propriety of establishing a female 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


missiouaiy society for the preveution of polygamy among the 
aborigines of the north-eastern district of South Australia; an evil 
which both ladies agreed to be mainly owing to the tact that the 
women did not know how to conduct themselves tike the women ot 
civilised nations; a fact to wdiich Braoy assented by observing, 
“ That w’as self evidt nt, or the men would find one wife qniio 
enough;” on which ^liss MacSalvo turned up the whites, or more 
properly speaking, the yellows of her ej^es, and ejaculated, ” Ah, 
3 ^es, indeed!” with much unction, though it is to he doubted 
"whether, after all, she perceived the full force of the remaik, 

‘‘ Why, general,” exclaimed Bracy quickly, you have been in 
Australia; you’re the very man we want; louse up, my dear sir, 
and enlighten our darkness/’ 

“ Pray, sir,” observed Miss MacSalvo, aildressing General Gud- 
geon, ‘‘ pray, sir, can you give me any insight into the habits ami 
customs of those interesting, but, alas! misguided individuals, the 
aborigines of South Australia; more particularly with reference to 
the female portion of the population — any little anecdotes which 
may occur to you now?” 

” By Jo-o ove, ma’am,” returned the general, wdiose English had 
not yet “suffered a recovery,” “you’ve come to— you’ve come to 
the right, eh?— to the right, what-is-it?” 

“ Shop ” suggested Bracy. 

“ Ye-es, to the right siio-op, if that’s what you want, ma’am. 1 
think there ain’t a man — there ain’t a man — eh? yes, breathing — 
that can tell 3^011 more — eh? more about larks — ” 

“ It is scarcely with a view to the natural history of the country 
that 1 am anxious to gain information.” interrupted Miss MacSalvo; 
“ the facts 1 require regard the general behavior and moral conduct 
of the female popu’ation of the north-eastern district.” 

“ Eh! oh, yes— yes, 1 under — 1 understand what you’re up to, 
eh?” resumed the general, with what he intended for a signiticant' 
wink at Bracy; “ there was Tom Slasher and me— a rare wild 
young, eh? yes, a wild young dog was Tom; well, ma’am, there 
was a gal over there — she w^asn’t one of the natives though— they’re 
taw-taw— yes, tawny-colored — but this gal was a nigger — reg’lar 
dai kie— Biack-MZ^ Susan, Tom used to call her — witty chap wois 
Tom.” 

And the general, being fairly started, continued to talk most 
volubly, though, from the peculiarities of his diction, he did not 
get to the point of his story so quickly as might have been expected. 
In the meantime Frere contrived to rejoin Rose, and seating himself 
almost in her pocket, he observed in a low voice; 

“ Well, I’ve contrived to tame the dragon, you see.” 

“ Yes, and persuaded him to dine mZA you instead of tipon you,” 
returned Rose, smiling; “ but tell me,” sue added, “ how did you 
contrive to satisfy him? Were you forced to apologize?” 

“ Oh, I put the thing before him in a common-sense point of 
view ,” replied Frere; “ ay pealed to his good feeling, as it Iliad 
faith in his possessing suen a quality, wliich is the sure w'ay to call 
it foith if it exists, and wound up by telling him that if he was 
sorry for his share in the business, 1 was ditto for mine; which mode 
of treatmeui proved eminently successful. He applied a forcible 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


251 


adjective to the word ass, and stigmatizing himself by the epithet 
thus compounded, he shook me heartily by the hand, and straight- 
way we became the greatest friends, ratifying the contract by an 
exchange of dinner invitations, without which ceremony no solemn 
league and covenant is considered binding in England in these days 
ol enlightened civilization.'' 

“ Well, 1 think you have behaved more bravely and nobly than 
if you had fniiuhl twenty duels," exclaimed Koi^e, fairly caiiitd 
away by her admiration. “ 1 esteem and respect you and — and — 1" 
Here she stopped short, and a bright blush overspread her pale feat- 
ures, for she perceived Frere’s fine eyes fixed upon her with an ex- 
pression of delighted surprise, which she had never observed in 
them before, and w^bich brought to her recollection the fact that 
after all he was a living-man not many years older than herself, in- 
stead of some magnanimous, philosopiiical, and eccentric character 
in history, clone into mcnlern English and animated by magic for 
her express delectation. The light -in Frere’s eyes had, however, 
faded, and he had relapsed into his accustomed nianner ere he re- 
plied: " 1 can’t say I see anything to make a fuss ab' ut in it. 1 
w'asn’t going to let a half tipsy boy insult me with impunity, so 1 
pitched him over the balusters as a trifling hint to that effect , neither 
did 1 feel inclined to shoot him or let him shoot me. byway of com- 
pensation for his tumble, because it would have been equally wrong 
and irrational so to do, and 1 went and told him my idefs in plain 
English, which was the natural course to pursue, and produced tlie 
exp\^cted result: 1 really can’t see anything rema»’kable in it all." 

*■ 1 fancy that 1 do.." replied Rose archly; " but, of course, we 
poor women can not pretend to be competent judges in such a 
case." 

‘‘You know you don’t think anything of the kind," returned 
Frere; " you’ve got a very good opinion of your own judgment, so 
don’t tell stories. " 

" Without either admitting or denying the truth of your assertion, 
1 should like to know what grounds you have for making it," asked 
Rose. 

" 1 can soon tell you, if that’s all you want to know," returned 
Frere. " You cculd not act for yourself with the quiet decision 1 
have before now seen you exercise, when occasion required it, un- 
less you possessed sullicirint self-appreciation to give you the requi- 
site degree of confidence." 

Ere Rose could reply, their conversation was interrupted by a 
piercing shriek, followed by an extreme bustle and confusion on the 
other side of the room. The cause w^as soon explained. Excited 
with wdne, and artfully drawn on by Bracy, General Gudgeon had 
told one of his "gentleman’s stories" to Miss MacSalvo, on the 
strength of which outrageous anecdote, that zealous advocate for 
estabTishing a female missionary society tor the prevention of 
polygamy among the aborigines of the north-eastern disiiict of Souih 
Australia had seen fit to go oft into a perfect tornado of the most 
alarming hysterics! 


253 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


CHAPTEK XXXVIII. 

SHOWS, AMONG OTHER MATTERS, HOW RICHARD FKERE PASSED A 
RESTLESS NIGHT. 

The hysterical affection of the praiseworthy anti -polygamist 
having taken place late in the evening, may be said to have broken 
up the party. Mrs. General Gudgeon, who, when the catastrophe 
occurred, was more or less asleep over the same book of prints to 
which she had devoted herself on her first arrival, originated, as 
she witnessed the confusion, a faint idea (all this lady’s ideas, and 
they were not many, were of a dim and ha7.y character, so that a 
'good ircpression of her thoughts— it we may be allowed the term — 
was a rarity hardly lo be met with) that her better half was in some 
way -connected with the matter; and knowing thfit dining out usu- 
all}’^ “ produced an effect upon him (as she delicately and indefi- 
nitely phrased it), she forthwith instituted an inquiry after her car- 
riage; and that “ vehicle for the transmission of heavy bodies ” be- 
ing reported in readiness, she issued marching orders, and as soon 
as the honorable and gallant officer could be got upon his legs, took 
him in tow, and in his company departed. 

The Dackerels hastened to follow this example, the maternal 

Dackerel having come in for her share of the general’s “ good 

things,” and appearing much inclined to ” trump ” Miss MacSalvo’s 
hysterics with a fainting fit, J. D. D., with a face even longer than 
usual, supported her retiring footsteps. lie had been warming his 
chilly spirit in the sunshine of the widow's smiles, till, in the possi- 
bility of some day calling that delicate creature his own, the outline 
of a new and fascinating destiny had been traced upon the foolscap 
paper of his imagination; but the doom was still upon him, and in 
the calls of filial piety he recognized a fresh postponement even of 
his last forlorn hope. Frere had shaken hands with Rose, apolo- 
gized for not being able to lunch with them the next day— a thing 
which nobody had asked him to do— and, having set the butler 
and both the tall footmen to look for his cotton umbrella, and put 
on consecutively two wrong great-coats, was about to walk home, 
when Mr. James Rasper interfered;— would drive his friend 
home — anywhere — everywhere — so that he would but accompany 
him; he wanted to show him his cab; he wished to learn 1 is opin- 
ion of his horse — in short, he would not be denied; and Ifcre, be- 
ginning to think his friendship a worse alternative than his animos- 
was forced to consent, winch he did thus: 

” Well, yes, if you like, i shall get home sooner, that’s one 
comfort; and I’ve got three hours’ work to do before 1 go to bed. 
Is this your trap? — the brute won’t kick, will he? Ugh!— what an 
awkward thing to get into. 1 believe I’ve broken my shin. Go 
ahead! Mind yon steer clear of the lamp- posts. 1 can’t think why 
people ride when they’ve got legs to w'alk with.” 

Bracy waited patiently to hand Miss MacSalvo down-stairs, which 
he did with much gravity and decorum, lamenting the disgraceful 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


263 


conduct of General Gudgeon, of whom he remarked, with a porten- 
tous shake ot the head, that “ he greatly feared he was not a man 
of a sober or edifying frame of mind ” — which observation was cer- 
tainly true as far as the sobriety was concerned. 

Whether Jemima of the sour countenance bad, in arranging 
Frere’s bed, imparted somewhat of the angularity of her own nature 
to the feathers, or whether the events of the evening had excited 
that part of his system in regard to the existence wliereof he in- 
dulged in a very bigotry of skepticism, namely, his nerves, certain- 
ly it is, that when (having read Hindostanee till daylight peeptd in 
upon his studies) he went to bed, he did not follow his usual cus- 
tom of dropping asleep almost as soon as he had laid his head upon 
his pillow, neither could he apply his ordinary remedy for insomno- ' 
lency, for, when he tried to concentrate his attention on some diffi- 
cult sentence in his Hindostanee, or to solve mentally an abtruse 
mathematical problem, a figure in white muslin obscured the Asiatic 
characters, or entangled itself inextricably with rectangular tri- 
angles, so that the wished for Q, E. D. could never be arrived at. 
Frere had never thought Rose Arundel pretty till that night— one 
reason for which might have been, that he had never thought about 
her appearance at all; but now, all of a sudden, the recollection 
of her animated face, as, carried away by the impulse ot the mo- 
ment, she had begun to tell how she admired his noble conduct, 
occinred to him, and all its good points flashed upon him, and 
haunted and oppressed him. The smooth, broad forehead— he /md 
observed that before, and decided it to be a good forehead in a 
practical point of view — e. a capacious knowledge-box; but now 
he felt that it was something more, and the mysterious attribute of 
beauty forced itself upon bis notice and flung its charms around 
him. Then her eyes —those deep, earnest, truth! ul eyes, seemed yet 
to gaze at him, with a bright expressicn of interest sparkling through 
their softness. He could not, try as he ijleased, banish the recollec- 
tion of that look; as he lay and though!, it came across him and 
bewitched him like a spell. And her mouth — what a world of elo- 
quence was there! even in its silence: — there might be traced the 
same firmness and resolution which marked the haughty curl ot 
Lewis's short upper lip; but r,he pride and sternness were wanting, 
and in their place a chastened pensive expression seemed to aftorcU^ 
a guarantee that the strength ot character thus indicated could alone 
be aroused in a good cause;— but the true expression of that mouth 
was to be discovered only when a smile, suggestive of every softer, 
brighter trait of woman’s nature, revealed the little pearl-like teeth. 
All this seemed to have come upon Frere like a sudden inspiration; 
he could not banish it from his recollection, and the more he reflect- 
ed upon it the less he understood it. And so he tossed and tumbled 
about, restless alike in mind and body, till at last, just as the clock 
struck six, he tell into a doze. But sleep afforded him no refuge 
from his tormentress. Rose, changed and yet the same, haunted 
his dreams; but a halo appeared to surround her — she had acquired 
a character ot sanctity in his eyes. Never again could he inadvert- 
ently address her as “ sir,” and he would as soon have tli ought of 
connecting the idea ot a ” good fellow ” with one of Raphael’s 
Madonnas as with Rose Arundel. At halt-past seven Jemima— a 


254 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


veiy chronometer for punctuality— knocked at his door, and, receiv- 
ing no answer, sans ceremonie walked in, lo see whiit might be the 
matter; and, finding her master rather snoring than otherwise, in- 
vaded liis sluuihers by exclaiming, in a shrill voice: 

“ It ain’t of much use me geltrng out at my bhssed bed with the 
rheumat'z in the small o’ my back, to bring yojr hot water by half- 
pasi RCTen, if you lay there snoring like a bog. Master Richard, and 
won’t answer a body when they call you;” lo which appeal ehe re- 
cein'cl the somewhat inconsequent reply; 

” vV\dl, suppose 1 wouldn’t let him shoot me, there's nothing very 
line in that, t^ose.” 

” Listen to him,’' exclaimed Jemima, aghast, ” lor’ a mussy! 1 
hone he ain’t a-waniiering. or took to the drink. Master Richard, 
will ye please to wake, and talk bke a Christian, and not go fright- 
en»ng a body out of their wiis?” she continued in a tone of voice 
as of an agitated sea-mew. 

‘‘Eh, what! oh, is that you, Jemima? 1 w’as so sound asleep; 
go away, and I’l get up di;ectly,” muttered Frere, becoming con- 
scious of those usual colloquial antipodes, ” his room and his com- 
pany.” 

But Jemima had been Hurried anil rendered anxious ou his ac- 
count, first by his silence, next by his incoherent address; and now, 
finding her alarm bad been without foundation, her better feelings 
turned sour, and having her master at an adv'tmtage, seeing that he 
could not rise till she should phase to convey herself away, she 
gave vent to her acidulated sentiments in the following harangue: 

‘‘ Yes, it’s all very w'ell to say ‘ go away,’ as if you was speaking 
to a dog, after frightening people out of their wits, talking gib- 
berish about shooting and fine roses; but 1 see bow it is, you’re a- 
tstking to evil courses, a-staying out here till one o’clock in the 
morning, tor 1 heard ye a-comin’ in, lying awake with tije rheu- 
iviatiz in the small of my back, drinking, and smoking cig:irs, which 
spiles the teeth, and hnndermines the bintellects, and iiccounts for 
being non compo Mondays the next morning; but I’ve lived with 
you and yours thirty year and odd, and I ain’t a going to see you 
rack-and-ruining of your constitution without a-speaking up to tell 
5 'Ou of it, tor all your looking black at the woman that nursed you 
when yer was an hinnocent babby, all onconcious of sicb goings- 
on.” 

” My good woman, don’t talk such rubbish, but go away and let 
me got my things on,” returned Frere, in a species of apologetic 
growl. 

” Rubbish indeed,” continued Jemima, in a violent falsetto, her 
temper being thoroughly aroused by the contemptuous epithet ap- 
plied to her unappreciated homily; ‘‘that’s all tlie thanks one gets 
for one’s good advice, is it? but i don’t care. I’ve lived wdth you, 
man and boy, nigh half my life, which, like the grass of the field, 
is three score years and ten, come Michaelmas twelve rnonihs. and 
I’m not a-going to see you take to evil courses without lifting up 
my voice as a deacon set on a bill to warn you against ’em, wdiich 
is \vhat your blessed mother would have done, only too gla.liy, if 
she wasn’t an angel in the family vault, where we must all go when 
our lime comes— smoking filthy cigars and stopping out till one 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


JJo5 

o'clock in the morning, indeed!” and mutteiing these words over 
and over to herself, as a sort of refrain, Jemima hobbled ovU of the 
room with more stoutness and alacrity than could have been ex- 
pected from her antiquated appearance. Relieved from tire incubus 
of her presence Frere rose and proceeded to diess himself; but the 
nightmare that had oppressed him, whether sleeping or waking, 
haunted him still; in vain he tried to shave himself — the vision in 
w'hite muslin came between his face and the looking-glass, and oc- 
casioneJ him to cut his chin. At his frugftl breakfast it was with 
him again, and, strange to say, took away his appetite; it went out 
with him to his scientific institution, and weakened liis perceptions, 
and absorbed his attention, and dulled his meaior3% till even the 
most positively resolved nebulae swam in a mist befoie him, and the 
mountains of the moon, which had lately brought loith a new 
crater, might have been the honafide products of that planet instead 
of merely her African godchildien tor aught that he could have 
stated to the contrary, lie got through his morning’s work some- 
how, and then the vision prompted him to call at Lady Lombard’s, 
and gave him no peace till he started for the goodly mansion of that 
hospitable widow, which he did in such an unusually agitated 
frame of mind, that for the first time in the memory of man he for- 
got his cotton umbrella He hurried wildly through the stieets, 
overthrowing little children and reversing applewomen, not to men- 
tion an insane attempt to constitute hinn-elf a member of tlie “ liap- 
py family,” by ilashing violently against the wires of their cage, 
which contains all kinds of strange animals except a Richard Frere 
or I Podicepes Gornutus, till at last he reache j the locality in which 
Lady Lombard’s house was situated. 

And here a new and unaccountable crotchet took possession of 
his brain. Frere, who, since he could run alone and express his 
sentiments intelligibl.y in liis native tongue, had never known what 
bashfulness meant, was seized with a sudden attack of that uncom- 
fortable sensation, the extinguisher of so manj' would-be shining 
lights of humanity, who, but for that ” flooring ” quality, would 
have published such books and made such speeches, that the liair 
of society at large, upraised with wonder and admiration, must have 
stood on end through all lime ‘‘ like qiidls upon the fretful porcu- 
pine ” So violent was this attack of shyness that, after having 
hurried from his office as though life and death hung upon his* 
speed, he could not make up his mind whether to pay the projected • 
visit or not, and actually strolled up and down, passing and repass 
ing the door some half dozen times before he ventured to knock at 
it; nay, to such an extent had this mysterious timor panico seized 
upon him that when the plush-clad ” man mountain ” appeared in 
answer to his summons, he merely left his card, and, inquiring 
meekly how the ladies were, prsted off at, if anything, a more rapiii 
pace than that at which he had walked on his way thither. 

Then, ere he had proceeded the length of a street, came the reac- 
tion, under the influence of which he not unjustly stigmatized him- 
self as an egregious tool; and but for very shame would have re- 
traced his steps. He could not, however, make up any credible 
excuse for facing the footman a second time, so as the nest best 
thing to seeing Rose, he found his way to Park Crescent, and called 


256 


LKWTS ARUNDEL. 


iil.on J^ewis, to \vhom he related how that he toll so restless and 
lidgety that he was persuaded he must be about to develop a fever- 
ish cold or some analogous abomination. Having engaged Lewis 
to accompany him on the following evening to a lecture at the 
Palaeontological on “the relations ot the earlier Zoophytes,’’ who- 
ever they might be, he was about to depart when, as he reached the 
hall, a carriage with a splendid pair ot grays dashed up to the door, 
and a pretty" little brunette, with sparkling black e3^es, a brilliant 
complexion, and a bonnet the color of raspberry ice, descended, and 
passing Frere with a glance n-alf saucy, halt contemptuous, ran up- 
stairs lis it she were a hahihie ot the house, 'rhis was Emily, 
Countess Portici, Lord Bellefield’s younger sister, who, having at 
nineteen run away with an Italian nobleman, for love ot his black 
e3^es and ivory complexion, had, ere she was five-and-twent3^ grown 
heartily sick ot them and ot Italy, and discovered some good reason 
to quit that land of uncomfortable splendor to enjoy the ga3’^etiee of 
a London spring, leaving her picturesque husband "to console him- 
self as best he might during her absence. She possessed very high 
spirits, without any vast amount ot judgment to counterbalance 
them, and her present frame ot mind was that of a school-giil re- 
joicing in a holiday, into which she was determined to cram as 
much pleasure, tun, and frolic as an unlimited capacity tor enjoy- 
ment would enable her to undergo. Ou (ne strength of her position 
as a married woman, she constituted herself Annie’s chaperone on 
all occasions when the vigilance of Minerva Livingstone could be 
eluded; and, as that Gorgon of the nineteenth century was not so 
young as she had been, and found late hours tend to reduce her 
stamina and degrade the dignity of ill temper to the ignominious 
level of mere peevishness, she unwillingly allowed the Countess 
Portici to act as her substitute, and escort Annie to such evening 
entertainments as from their nature threatened to invade the hours 
dedicated by Minerva to repose. There was much similarity of 
feature and of manner between the countess and her brother Charles 
Leicester, only that Charles’s languid drawl was in Emily re]>laced 
by a sparkling vivacity, which, together with a certain selfish good 
nature that led her to promote the enjoyment of others on every oc- 
casion in which it did not come in contact with her own, was suffi- 
cient to render her a general favorite. Annie was no exception to 
this rule; and, always delighted to escape from the petrifying in- 
fluence of Minerva, eagerly seconded all her livel3" cousin’s schemes 
for her amus ment. 

The object of the countess’s visit on the present occasion was to 
secure Annie tor the following evening, when they were to dine to- 
gether, and were afterward to be escorted to the opera by Lord 
Bellefield, wdiere they were to hear a new soprano, with a voice 
three notes higher than that of anybody else, which notes might by 
a mild and easy figure of speech be not inaptly termed bank notes, 
seeing that by their exercise the fair cantatrice had realized the 
satisfactory sum of thirty thousand pounds. 

The countess’s scheme happening to fit in very nicely with the 
views of the elders, as the general dined out, and Minerva was 
nursing a cold, wnich must have reduced the temperature of htr 
blood to some frightful figure below zero, the project met with no 


LEWIS AKtr^s’PEL. 


257 

more opposition than, from the constitution of Miss Livingstone’s 
mind, was inevitable. And thus it came about that on tlie follow- 
ing day Emily called for Annie, and the two girls (for the matron 
was a very girlish specimen of five and-twenty) drove round the 
park together, and tlien retiied to Emily’s boudoir, and talked 
“confidence” till it was time to dress. Annie’s levelatious did 
not go much more than skin deep, and related chiefly to anxieties 
concerning papa and difficulties with Aunt Martha, wlio was “so 
tiresome about things, and never would let anybody love her,” and 
then branchtd off to a retrospective sketch of the preliminary diffi- 
cullies which had obstructed Charley Leicester’s wedding, ending 
by a detailed account of the ceremony itself, and Annie’s hopes and 
fears as to the ultimate result of the bridegro(»m’s good resolutions. 

Emily, on the contrary, plunged at once in mAas res^ and re- 
lated how all last winter she had been rendered wretched by “ Ales- 
sandro’s ” attentions to the Marchese Giulia di B ani (she re- 

vealed the blank in an agitated whisper), and what all her particulur 
friends had said to her on the subject, and how she had joiidly and 
severally replied to them that the dignity of her sex supported Ik r; 
whence, warming with her subject, she went on to state how she 
in her turn had supported this dignity by repulsing the advances of 
Captain Augustus (familiarly and affectionately reduced, tor collo- 
quial purposes, into Uus) Travers, who, haviug been her first love, 
and retired rice Alessandro Conte di Portici, promoted to the rank 
of husband, considered that it was again his innings, and had aili- 
gently sought to become platonically her third love and dispute the 
post of camlier serr ente y^vih all anil sundry, in spite of which con- 
stancy and devotion she had persevered in her repulsiveuess, until, 
between her cruelty and a reckless indifference to malaria, poor Gus 
was attacked with a brain fever, and then of course when he grbw 
a little better she could not continue unkind to him, for she might 
have had his life to answer for, and that was a serious considera- 
tion; and so by degrees he took to coming to the Palazzo Portici 
constantly and went about to places with her, and somehow she got 
accustomed to him, and Alessandro did not seem to mind, and poor 
Gus always behaved very well, and only asked to be allowed the 
privilege of her friendship, and everybody did tlie same sort of 
things — “ It’s their way over tliere, you know, Annie dear;” till at 
last Bellefielcl came, and he had never been able to endure Gus be- 
cause he was so handsome, poor fellow; so Bellefield made a great 
fuss, and said all sorts of shocking things, and set Alessandro at 
h r: and, worse than all, quarreled with Gus and w^anted to horse- 
whip him, and it almost came to a duel, only she wrote Gus a little 
note, imploring him not to fight, but to go awa}^ and forget her; 
and he had done the first directly, and she dared say he had done 
the second, tor she’d ne^er seen him since, which she was very glad 
of — and here she heaved a deep sigh, and caressed a comic and 
unnatined transalpine poodle, which by rec.son of its flowing locks 
looked like an animated carriage mat, as though it had been a pet 
lamb, the sole prop of some heart broken and disheveled shepherd- 
ess. to which picture of pastoral pathos did Emily, Countess di 
Portici, then and there mentally assiiniiate herself. 

A.nd to all this history of loves and hates and platonic friendships, 
9 




258 tVAVJS ARUXDEL. 

whatever they might be, simple and innocent Annie listened with 
much interest and more perplexity. 8he had a vague notion that 
Emily liad behaved toolishly, if not wrongly, but she was very fond 
of her cousin, who, from the difteience in their respective ages, 
had acquired a degree of ascendancy over her which their natural 
characters scarcely warranted. Then Annie’s deep ignorance of 
foreign manners and customs threw a mist of uucertaint}^ around 
the whole affair, beneath the shadow of which she was able to put 
the most charitable construction on Emily’s conduct without “ stul- 
tifying her moral sense,” to speak as a logician; still she felt called 
upon to give her cousin a little good advice in regard to striving 
emirely to forget and scrupulously to avoid for the future the too 
fascinating Gus, for which Emdy kissed her, and called her a dear 
silly little prude; then twining their arms round each other’s taper 
waists, the girls descended to the dining-room, united for the time 
being, literally and figuratively, by the closest bonds Df amity and 
a flection. Standing rather in awe of her brother, Ernil^^ conducted 
herself during the meal v/ith so much gravity and decorum that she 
iluite threw a shade over Annie’s usual light-heartedness, and by 
the time they reached their opera box, a more somber trio (not even 
excepting the soprano, the tenor, and the baritone, of whom the 
first two were prepared to be poisoned, and the third to stab him- 
self on their marble tomb l)efore the evening should be over), could 
not have been found beneath the root of Her Majesty’s Theater. 

Between the acts of the opera a diverlissement was introduced in 
which a danseuse who had acquired an Italian reputation, but who 
was, as yet, unknown in England, was to make her first appear- 
ance. Emily was conversing volubly about her various merits when 
a f^ishionably dressed young man, with delicate features, a profu- 
sion of dark waving curls, and a pair of tJie most interesting little 
black mustaches imaginable, lounged into one of the stalls, and 
began lazilly to scrutinize the company through a richly inounled 
opera-glass. He was undeniably handsome, but the expression of 
his face was disagreeable, and his whole demeanor blase and puppy- 
ish in the extreme. As he entered, Annie perceived tier cousin to 
give a violent start, and, as she met her glance, to color slightly; 
then, evidently unwilling to attract her brother’s notice, she made 
a successful effort to recover herself, and appeared completely ab- 
sorbed in the terpsichorean prodigies of the new opera dancer, dust 
at the conclusion of the divertissement some one knocked at the 
door of the box, and, on Lord Bellcfitld’s opening it, Annie lieard 
a man’s voice say, in a hniTied manner, ” 1 beg your lordship’s 
pardon, but can you allow me two minutes’ conversation with 
you?” Lord Bellelleld replied in the affirmative, and quitted the 
box, closing the door behind him. As he did so Emily, laying her 
finger on her cousin’s arm, said in a hurried whisper, “ Annie, do 
you see that gentleman in the fourth row of stalls, the sixth from 
this end. That’s Gus— isn’t he handsome, poor fellow’? Ah!” she 
continued, as the abject of her scrutiu}' suddenl}^ brought his opera- 
glass to bear upon their box, ” he has made me out, and he does not 
know that Belletield Is here. Oh! 1 hope lie won’t think of coming 
up!” 

As she spoke Gus, having become aware of her presence, made 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


259 


an almost imperceptible sign of recognition, and in the sajie quiet 
manner telegraphed an entreaty to be allowed to join her; upon 
which Emily frowned and shook hei head, by way of prohibilion, 
favoring Gus afterward with a pensive smile, to show that her re- 
fusal proceeded less from choice than from necessity. Almosc as 
she did so Lord Bellefield returned, looking aDno3"ed and anxious. 
“ 1 am obliged to leave you for half an hour,” he said; ” but you 
will be perfectly safe liere, and 1 shall return in plenty of time to 
escort you home. You may depenti upon my coming to fetch you.” 

And almost before he finished speaking, he had quitted the box, 
and was crone. 

Confused and half frightened at his sudden departure, Annie re- 
mained for a minute or two with her eyes fixed on the door tlirough 
which he had, as it were, vanished. When she again glanced 
toward the stage, the stall lately occupied by Augustus Travers w^as 
vacant. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

ANNIE GllANT FALLS INTO DIFFICULTIES. 

Lewis had accompanied Frere to the Palaeontological, and had 
added to the circle of his acquaintance those mysterious beings, the 
” relations ot the earlier Zoophites.” When tire lecture was over 
Frere, who had an order to admit two into the House of Commons, 
took fjewis with him to hear the speaking. The debtite proved in- 
teresting; the premier addressed the House at length; a well-known 
satirist rose to reply to him, remarking on various points in the 
speech with much talent and more ill-nuture, and the minister w as 
again on his legs to answer his opponent, when Lewis, glancing at 
his watch, discovered to his annoyance that it was considerably ps.st 
eleven; and aware that General Grant had a particular obieclion to 
his servants being kept up late, communicated this fact to his com- 
panion, and wished him good-night. 

” What! can’t you stand and hear 's answer?” was the reply; 

” and then I’d come away too.” 

Lewis explained that the thing was impossible, and Frere contin- 
ued : 

” Well, what must be must, 1 suppose, and as my hearing ’s 

reply is another inevitable necessity, 1 must e’en say good night, so 
scJdaffen sie wohld^ 

Lewis grasped his proffered hand, and leaving the gallery stuitcd 
on his homeward route. As he approached Charing Cross his atten- 
tion was attracted by the restlessness of a magnificent horse, which, 
in a well-appointed cab, was waiting at the door ot one ( t the houses. 
As he slackeued his pace for a moment to ascertain whether ih(^ 
efforts made by a diminutive cab-groom to restrain the plunging of 
the fid-ry animal would prove successful, the house do<^r was flung 
open, and a gentleman, apparently in headlong haste, sprung down 
the steps so recklessly that he missed his footing, and would have 
fallen had not Lewis caught him by the arm in time to prevent it. 
As the person he had thus assisted turned to (hank him. tlie n flec- 
tion of the gaslight fell upon hh lace, and Lewis recognized Loid 


260 


LEWIS ARUJS^DEL. 


Bellefield, though his features were characterized by a strange ex- 
pression which Lewis had never observed in them befoie. Draw- 
ing back, he bowed coldly, and was about to pass on, when Lord 
Bellefield exclaimed 

“ {Stay one moment. Mi. Arundel; 1 have been forced to leave the 
opera-house suddenly : the Ocuntess Portici and Miss Grant are in 
mv fathers box, and i have promised to return to see them home, 
but am quite unable to do so;— 30U would oblige — that is, 1 am sure 
Genial Grant wmuld wish you — ” 

“ Will vour lordship favor me with the loan of jmur pass-ticket?” 
interrupted Lewis shortly. 

As Lord Bellefield complied with this request, Lewis remarked 
that his hand trembled to such a degree that he could scarcely gru^p 
the ivory ticket. 

“ You will tell the countess that it was impossible for me to come 
to them,” continued his lordship hurriedly; then passing his iuind 
across his e.yes, as if he were half bewildered, he sprung into the 
cab, and seizing the reins, drove ofi at a furious pace in the direction 
of Westminster Abbey. 

Lewis gazed after him a moment in surprise, then turning on his' 
heel, walked rapidly to the end of the Haymarket, hoping to reach 
the theater before the opera should be concluded. In this expecta- 
tion he w^as, however, disappointed, for when he gained the Opera 
Colonnade, he perceived from the crush of carriages, and the bustle 
and confusion wdiich was going on, that the opera was over. Has- 
tily pushing through the ciow^l, he endeavored to find the box Lord 
Bellefield had indicated, but to one as little acquainted as was Lewis 
with the intricacies of the opera-house this was no such easy matter; 
first, he ran up considerably too high, and in his eagerness to retrieve 
his erroi he descended as much too low; and even wdien he bad at- 
tained the prcpei level, he more than once took a W’rong turning. 
At length he caught a box-keeper, who, on being shown Lord Belle- 
field’s ticket, volunteered to conduct him to (he box he was in search 
of. Lo and behold, when they reached the spot, the door stood 
open, and the box w^as tenantless! 

in order lo explain how this awkward and embarrassing result 
had been brought about we must beseech our reader’s patience while 
we resume the bi’oken thread of our narrative where we relin- 
quished it at the end of the last chapter. Scarce!}^ had Lord Belle- 
field quitted the box five minutes when the attendant opemd the 
door and Augustus Travers made his appearance. He was very 
liumble and courteous, and all ho said to Emily wdtii his tongue 
might liave been print^ in the ” Times ” the next moiniug without 
affording matter for the most arrant gossip to prate about; but the 
language spoken by bis eloquent blue eyes was of a very different 
character. He told her vocally that he had been traveling in the 
East since they had last parJed; that he had been unwell, bail felt 
restless and unsettled; that he bad found it impossible to lest con- 
tentedly in any place; he had become a citizen of the world; a wan- 
derer over the face of the globe; he had only leturncd to town dur- 
ing the last week, and had no notion she had left Italy — dear Italy! 
— and here his eyes said — ” tliat country \vhich your presence made 
a paradise to me.” just as plainly as if his tongue had spoken the 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


261 


words; in fact, they said it more plainly, for his tongue appeared to 
consider it fashionable to speak English with a slight I’sp, which 
occasionally rendred his meaning indistinct; “ but when he saw 
her,” continued his longue, “ he could not resist coming up to her 
box to see whether she had quite forgotten all her old friends;’' — 
and here his eyes resumed thut his faith in her was so strong that 
nothing, neither abse.jce nor aught else, could in the smallest degree 
shake it. 

Then Emily replied that she was always delighted to see any old 
friend, but that she really was quite shocked to find him looking so 
ill; which observation she uttered with particular tenderness, be- 
cause, not being aware that lie had played French hazard till five 
o’clock on the previous morning, she accounted for his pale looks 
by the romantic hypothesis that he was dying for love of her. And 
so they continued to converse in an undertone, apparently much to 
their mutual satisfaction, while Annie, having bowed coidly when 
she was introduced to the fascinating Augustus, of whose presence 
tiiere she greatly disapproved, pretended altogether to ignore him, 
and turned her attention solely to the opera; and so time ran on, 
till, looking at her watch just as the baritone singer was approach- 
ing, with suicidal intentions, the (imitation) marble tomb supposed 
to contain the corpses of his tenor and soprano victims, but which 
really was tenanted by a live carpenter, who, in a paper cap and 
flannel jacket, was waiting till the fall of the curtain should enable 
him to carry away the entire mausoleum, Annie perceived that it 
was past eleven, and glancing at Emily, reminded her in dumb show 
that Lord Bellelield might be momentarily expected. This intelli- 
gence Emily in a low tone commiinicaled to her friend, who smiled 
to show his white teeth, and replied that “ Bellefield and he had met 
at Baden, and had become wonderful friends again;” despite which 
assurance, Emily still urged his departure, and he still lingered on 
till the opera came to an end, and Lord Bellefield hud not made his 
appearance. Being Saturday night, there was no ballet, and the 
house began to empty rapidl}'’ 

” What can possibly have become of your brother, Emily?” ex- 
claimed Annie, who, disliking the whole situation most particularly, 
was fast lapsing into that uncomfortable slate of mind familiarly 
termed ” a fuss.” 

” If you will allow me, 1 shall be delighted to see you to your 
carriage,” insiuuated Gus. 

” Thank you, but 1 am sure mv brother will be here directly,” 
retuiiied Emily; ‘‘he would be extremely annoyed to find that we 
had gone without waiting for him. Pray do not let us detain you.” 

But of course Gus would not go; he should be wretched unless he 
knew they were in safety; he saw I hey were anxious; he would 
ascertain whether Lord Bellefield had returned; there might per- 
haps be difficulty in getting up their carriage — and so he left the 
box, promising to return instantly. 

” VVMatr»?’6J we to do, Emily, if Bellefield does not come?” ex- 
claimed Annie, "pressing her hands together, much as the prima- 
donna had done, when, some quarter of an hour since, she had ejac- 
ulated at the very lip-top of her lofty voice, ” Addesso Manr 

” What are we to do, you silly child?” replied Emily, laughing, 


262 


LEWIS ARUXDEL. 


“ why, walk down stairs, to be sure, and allow Gus to take care of 
us till we can find the carriage. Is not he handsome? poor fellow!” 

Betore Annie could urge her dislike to this scheme, Travers re- 
turned, bringing with him a good-looking shy boy, embarrassed 
by a perpetual consciousness of his extreme youth and his first tail- 
coat. 

‘‘1 can see nothing of Lord Bellefield,” began Gus; ‘‘it is evi- 
dent something most have occurred to prevent his return. Let me 
introduce my brother Alfred,” he continued, addressing Emily; 
‘‘ he was a naughty little boy in pinafores when you saw him last. 
And now what will you do? every one is going or gone.” 

” Oh, wait a minute longer; I’m sure he will come,’^ urged 
Annie. 

” Really we can not,” returned Emily; ‘‘ we shall get shut up in 
the opera-house all Sunday if we don't take care.” 

” Which would be dreadfully wiciied— a most terrific climax of 
depravity,” simpered Gus. ‘‘ Se« iously,’' he continued, ” you must 
accept my arm, though 1 am sorry the alternative should be so ver\’’ 
disagreeable to you.” ^ 

These latter words he spoke in such a tone that Emily alone could 
hear them, for which he obtained a reproachful, tender, and up- 
braiding glance, with a view to which reward he had probably ut- 
tered them. 

‘‘ Come, Annie, we positively must go,” exclaimed her cousin 
impatiently. 

” Alfred, why don’t you offer Miss Grant your arm?” chimed in 
Gus, drawing Emily’s within his own; thus urged, poor Annie, 
sorely against her will, accepted Alfred’s trembliug arm, and quitted 
the box — Emily and Augustus Travers following, as they de- 
scended the stairs a slight confusion occurred: an Irish gentleman 
had lost his hat, and wanted to lelurn to look tor it, a measure 
against wdiich a stout old lady, to whom he vras acting as escort, 
vehemently protested, wldle an obsequious box-keeper was vainly 
cndeavoiing to uudtrstand the locality iu wdiich the embarrassed 
Hibernian imagined he had left the missing article. While Annie 
and her juvenile prot( ctor were maneuvering to get past this group, 
Augustus Travers paused, saying iu a low tone to his companion: 
” Let them precede us; I must speak two words to you in private, 
and if I lose this opportunity, I may never have another. Emily, 
if yon value my peace of mind, 1 entreat you do not refuse.” 

A large party, composed chiefiy of young men, was descending at 
tlie moment, so that Emily’s reply was inaudible, but when, having 
got in some degree clear of the confusion, Annie looked hack for 
her chaperon, Travers and the countess were nowhere to be seen. 
Horrified at this discovery. Annie stopped abruptly, exclaiming, 
‘‘Oh, we have missed Mr. Travers and my cousin! we had better 
turn back.” 

The boy quickly glanced round, and as he perceived the truth of 
her assertion, a meaning smile passed across his features, All 
traces of it had, however, vanished ere he replied, ‘‘ They must have 
turned dowm the otlier staircase, but as it will bring them out at the 
same place as this would have done, we shall meet liiem at the bot- 
tom;” then, as his companion still hesitated, he continued, ‘‘ 1 can 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 263 

assure you that it is so; we would only Icse them if we were to re- 
turn.” 

Half convinced by this argument, and completely frightened i)y 
the parly ot young men, who, talking and laughing, were rapidly 
following them, Annie suffered herself to be hurried on by her com- 
panion till she reached the toot of the staircase: here she paused, 
and looked anxiously for her cousin and Travers— they were no- 
where to be seen. Annoyed, distressed, and frightened, she turned 
to her companion, exclaiming, ‘‘ They are not here, you see; what 
are we to do?” 

‘‘ Wait, 1 suppose,” returned the boy, who seemed puzzled and 
vexed. ” This is a nice trick of Master Gus’s,” he continued, in a 
half soliloquy. ” He ought at least to have given me a hint what to 
do.” 

Before Annie could inquire what he imagined his brother’s inten- 
ti(.ns miirht be, a fresh incident diverted, and, from its disagreeable 
nature, so(-n wholly engrossed her attention. The crush-room, as it 
is called, where she was now standing, was occupied almost entirely 
by men, who, broken up into parties of four or five, were pacing up 
and down, waiting for their friends to join them, or standing in 
groups, canvassing the various merits and demerits of the different 
performers. To one or two ot these coteries Annie soon became 
an object of especial notice. “Do you see that girl?” whispered 
a pert youth, with light curls and a turned-down collar; ” isn’t she 
a regular stunner, eh?” 

” Ya’as, dev’lish pwitty, ra’ally,” drawled a mustachioed puppy, 
staring through an eyeglass at the object ot his admiration. ” x\w 
— 1 wonder who she possibly ca-an be. 1 actually don’t know her.” 

‘‘1 suppose she’s standing theroi to be looked at,” returned the 
first speaker; ” her juvenile gallant can’t get her along at any price, 
it seems.” 

” Ra’ally, it were almost worth while to relieve him of his 
charge,” drawled mustacbios. ‘‘ he seems particularly incompetent 
to fulfill it; not— aw— equal to the situation— ha! hal” 

” Why don’t you volunteer, Spooner, if you think so?” ur^jed a 
third speaker. 

” Na-o, 1 don’t do that sort of thing — I’m — aw — quite a reformed 
character,” was the reply; ” but if you wa ant a leader for such a 
forlorn hope- aw — here comes your man.” 

As he spoke, a tall, distinguished-looking individual, with mucli 
watch-chain and more whisker, who looked forty, but might be a 
year ot two younger, lounged up to the group, and, showing his 
teeth, with a repulsive smile, inquired, ” What are you young rep- 
robates grinning about, eh?” 

‘‘We were only saying it was a pity that young lady had not e 
more efficient protector, and advising Spooner to volunteer. Sir Gil- 
bert,” was the reply. 

‘‘ Who are the parties?” inquired the last comer, screwing a glass 
into the corner of his eye. A moment’s inspection served to eluci- 
date the mystery; and, removing tlie glass, with a contemptuous 
smile he added. ” The boy is little Alfred Travers, who has just left 
Eton; he’s evidently waiting tor his brother, who, I've a notion, has 
more strings than one to his how to-night; as for the damsel, 


2n4 LEWIS ARUNDEL. 

tur a soms. Well play Master Gus a trick for one? in his life. 
Come with me, Forester; 1 may want you to bully the boy.” Then 
turning on his heel, he advanced toward Annie, and saluting her 
with a low bow, began; 

“This is a most unexpected pleasure! 1 had no idea that you 
were here to-night: where have you hidden yourselt this age?” 
then, perceiving that, confused by this address, anil uncertain 
whether he might not be some acquaintance whose features she 
had tailed to recognize, the young lady was completely at a loss how 
to repl}", he continued, ” 1 see that you have been cru^ enough to 
foiget me, while i, on the contrary, have carried your lovely iniHge 
in my heart, and time has failed to efface even the shadow of a 
charm. But let me be of use to you. Have you a carriage here, 
or will you allow me to place mine at your disposal? The house is 
becoming deserted — let me escort you. Stand aside, young gentle 
man,” as he spoke, he advanced toward her, offering his arm. 

But Annie, having recovered from her first surprise, telt con- 
vinced that the person addressing her was a pertect stranger, and, 
drawing back in alarm, she said to her companion, in a hurried 
whisper : 

“ Indeed, 1 do not know that gentleman— there must be some 
mistake — pray b t us get away.” 

Thus urged, the boy drew up bis slight figure to its full height, 
and turning to the individual in nucsl ion, said haughtily: 

“ You are mistaken, sir; 1 must trouble you to allow us to pass.” 

“ It is you who mistake jest for cat nest, young man,” was the 
contemptuous reply; “ the lady and 1 are old fiiemls; she is merely 
trying to tease me by pretending to have forgotte n me. d his gen- 
tleman ’’(and he glanced at his companion) ” will explain the mat- 
ter to you.” Then, again offering his arm^ to Annie, he continued, 
“ Really, if you persist in your silly jokes, we shall have the car- 
riage drive off.” 

Contused by his pertinacity, Alfred Travers glanced at his trem- 
bling companion, and reading the truth’in the tenified expression of 
her face. Ids bovish chivulry took fire, and anxious to vindicate his 
title to be considered a man, he exclaimed angrily: 

“ Stand back, sir, and let us pass; do you mean to insult the 
lady?” 

The person he addressed. Sir Gilbert V^ivian, was a rone baronet 
who, having been a man about town for the last sixteen years, and 
having long .since lost all the good character he had ever possessed, 
and acqidreii a reputation of a diamftTfcally opposite tendency, was 
scarcely a person to stick at trifles. He laughed f,s he n plied: 

“Do you bear that, Fonsier? This good youth accuses you of 
insalting the young lady— hadn’t you belter give him a lesson in 
civility?” 

As he spoke, he made a significant gesture, which the other re- 
sponded to by exclaiming: 

“ Insult the lady! what do you mean, you young cub, eh?” and 
grasping him by the arm, he twisted him longhly round, thereby 
separating him from Annie. 

“ Take that, and find out,” was the thoroughly school-hoy an- 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 265 

swer, as, bounding forward, the ex-Etonian administered to his an- 
tagonisl a ringing box on the ear. 

This, save that the blow was more skillful ly applied, and ratner 
harder than he had calculated upon, was jusi the result Forester 
had anticipated. (Seizing the struggling boy by the collar, he de- 
clared he would give him in custody for an assault, and despite his 
resistance, dragged him from the spot in a pretended seaich after a 
policeman. Availing himself of the confusion, the baronet placed 
himself by Annie’s side, and bending over her, said: 

“ it’s no use waiting for the fascinating Augustus, I can assure 
you; he has other game- in view to-night, and can’t come; so fur 
once you must allow me the honor of acting as his deputy— ’pon 
my woid, you must,” and as he spoke he attempted to take her arm 
and draw it within his own. 

Foor Annie! distressed, confused, and frightened, the desertion, 
or rather capture, of the boy, her only piotector, had increased her 
alarm twenty-1 old. and now the lenewed persecution of the baronet 
brought her fears to a climax, and attempting to withdraw her hand 
from his grasp in a very agony of terror, she exclaimed: 

“ Oil! where Emily? will nobody help me?” and burst into a 
flood of tears. 

At this moment a tall figure interposed between them, and the bar- 
onet’s wrist was seized with such a vise-like grasp that he uttered 
an exclamation of mingled rage and pain, and dropped the little 
hand of which he had unjustly possessed himself as though it had 
been a red-hot cinaer, while Annie, uttering a cry of delight, sprung 
forward, and clasping the arm of the new-comer, clung to it as some 
drowning wretch clings to the plank which shields him from the 
rushing waters that threaten his destruction. 

Lewis, for it was he (as every reader above the unsuspecting age 
of tour and a half has of course ere this discovered for himself), 
understanding at a glance the outlines of the situation, and intuit- 
ively divining much of what Annie mutt have gone through, pitied 
and sympathized with her so de<‘ply that the anger he would other- 
wise have felt against the man who hud insulted her was completely 
conquered by the strung feeling which absorbed him, and his only 
thought was how best to soothe and tranquilize the frightened girl 
who clung to him. 

” Do not tremble so,” ‘he said kindly, “ you have nothing more 
to fear. 1 will not leave you for a moment till you are again at 
home and in safety. Lean on my arm; you tremble so that you can 
scarcely w^alk,” and half leading, half supporting her, h<* drew her 
away from the scene of her disasters, and passing through the crowd 
of loiterers whom the scuffle between Forester and Alfred Travers 
had attracted to the spot, he conducted her tow^ard the nearest exit. 

(So quietly and suddenly had all this taken place, that ere Sir Gil- 
bert Vivian had left off rubbing bis wrist, or thoroughly realized 
the sudden frustration of his scheme, the object of his insolent a^ 
tentions w^as almost out of sight. 

Irritated at his failure, and urged on by the scarcely suppressed 
laughter of those who bad witriessed hia defeat, he muttered an oath, 
and turning ou his heel, followed hastily in the track of Annie and 
her deliverer. Coming up with I hem just as they reached the en- 


266 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


traDce’ leading into the colonnade, he lapped Lewis smartly on the 
shoulder, saying angrily: 

“A word with you, sir, it you please; 1 wish to ask what you 
mean by your impeitineut interference. Who thed — 1 are you, 1 
should like to know?” 

A flush of anger passed across Lewis's brow, and he was about to 
make a reply which would scarcely have tended to bring tlie matter 
to an amicable conclusion, when an almost convulsive pressure of 
the arm on which Annie hung recalled his self-control, and drawing 
himself up with a stern dignity which bespoke an apt pupil in the 
school ot (feneral Grant, he fixed his piercing eyes upon tlie baronet 
as lie answered, “Aou have already, sir, acting probably under 
some mistake ” (and he laid a strong emphasis upon the last word), 
“ subjected this lady to an amount of fright and annoyance which 
should secure the forbearance of any one moving in the society of 
gentlemen. Should you wish to call and apologize to her falher 
for your share iu this unlucky adventure, 1 shall be happy to ex- 
plain to him or to you the part 1 have taken in the affair. There 
is my address, and without waiting further parley, Lewis handed 
liim his card, and drawing Annie gently forward passed on. As 
they reached the entrance, a gentleman coming hastily the other 
way nearly ran against them. Looking up, Annie perceived it to be 
Augustus Travers, who, recognizing her, exclaimed, “ 1 have left 
the (/Ountess Portici in the carriage, and was returning to seek for 
3mu, Miss Grant. She is much alarmed at having inissed you.” 
The on IjM’eply Annie made to this speech was by a slight iuclination 
of the head, and pressing hastily forward she passed on. As Lewis 
assisted her into the carriage she tor the first time spoke. ‘‘You 
will come with us,”sheSaid eagerly. “ remember you have promised 
not to leave me.” Then catching sight of Augustus Travers, who 
had followed them, a new idea struck her, and she continued, ‘‘ Tell 
that gentleman 1 am afraid his brol her has become involved in some 
difticulty on my account; he had belter go back and look for him.” 

Lewis did as she wished him, and then sprung into the carriage, 
which instantly drove ofi;, leaving the discomfited dandy to accom- 
plish his mission as best he might. 


CHAPTER XL. 

A t1eTE-A'T:&TE AND A TRAGEDY. 

A PARTY more silent than the trio occupying General Grant’s 
carriage never drove from the door ot Her Majesty’s Theater. 
Annie, delighted to find herself once again in safely, leaned back 
amid cloaks and cushions to recover as best she mfglit tlie effects of 
the terror she liad undergone; somewhat to her surprise and displeas- 
ure, Emily, without uttering a word by way either of explanation 
or condolence, also threw herself back among the cushions, and 
arranging a fold of her mantle so as to conceal her face, appeared 
unconscious of the presence ot her companions. To this silent sys- 
tem they scrupulously adhered till they reached Conduit Street, 
when Emil}'’ exclaimed in a quick, eager tone ot voice, ” Where are 
they going? tell him to^drive to Beikeley Square directly.” 


LEWIS ARUilDEL. 


267 


Lewis, to whom this speech w^as addressed, let down the window 
and gave the coachman the requisite order, and in less than five 
minutes tlie carriage stopped at the house occupied to: the season 
by the Countess Portici. The servant let down the steps and Lewis, 
springing out, assisted the countess to alight: as she did so she 
turned her head, and saying huriiedly, “Tell Miss Grant 1 shall 
see her to-morrow," entered the house and the door closed after 
her. Lewis delivered his message as the carriage drove away. 

“ 1 think she is very unkind not to have said she was sorry for 
having missed me, and I’ll never go out with her again,” was 
Annie’s petulant reply. “And Lord Bellefield, too,” she con 
tinned vehemently — for she had by this time reached that stage of 
recovery when, tracing back her alarm to its first cause, it became 
a relief to her to pour forth her wrongs, and in Lewis she felt sure 
of a prudent and sympiithizing auditor—” it is all his fault for de- 
serting us in such a shameful way.” 

“ You are not perhaps aware that, meeting me accidentally, his 
lordship dispatched me to you as his subslitute,” returned Lewis. 

“ Did he intend then to have come back himself if you had been 
unable to act as his deputy?” inquired Annie quickly. 

“ He told me it was impossible for him to do so,” was Lewis’s 
reply. 

“ Then it he had not happened to meet you by mere chance, he 
would have left us to find our way to the carriage as best we could. 
How shameful! just imagine wdiat would have become of me if you 
had not arrived when you did? 1 believe 1 should have died of 
fright.” She paused, then added in her usual gentle, winning voice, 
“ ] must again plague you with my thanks, Mr. Arundel; you are 
fated alw^ays to render me services for which I am unable to make 
you any return, except by my sincere friendship,” she continued 
timidly. 

“ And that is a leward for which a man might — ” began Lewis 
passionately. He was going to add “ gladly die,” but he checked 
himself abruptly, and if Annie could at tlmt moment have seen his 
face, she would have been scared at the expression of despair by 
w^hich it was characterized, changing instantly to a look of the 
sternest resolution as he continued in a calm, grave voice, “ 1 mean 
that your uniform kindness and consideration have overpaid any 
trifling service 1 may have been fortunate enough to have rendered 
you.” 

“ Did Lord Bellefield give any reason for being unable to return 
to us?” inquired Annie, alter a pause. Lewis replied in the nega- 
tive, and Annie resumed, “ Papa will be waiting for us — he never 
goes to bed till 1 come home. You must tell him all you know of 
what has occurred, Mr. Arundel; and pray make him understand 
clearly how much Lord Bellefield is to blame in the matter.” 

” Of course, it General Grant asks me, 1 must say exactly wdiat I 
have done and why 1 did it,” returned Lewis gravely, “ but— may 
1 indeed use the privilege of a friend, and venture for once to advise 
you?” 

“ Oh yes, pray do,” rejoined Annie eagerly, “ 1 shall be so much 
obliged to you. 1 dare say 1 am going to do something very 
foolish.” 


268 


LEWIS ARUXDEL. 


“ From my acquaintance with your father’s high and chivalrous I 
character,” continued Lewis, ”1 feel sure UuU the facts wiiii 
which 1 must make him acquainted will incense him greatly agaiiisi 
Lord Bellefield, and as the general is from temperament and educa- 
tion a man of action, his resentment is almost certaiu to lead to 
some practical results. ]Sow just at piesent you are naturally and 
justly angr}' with your cousin; but young ladies’ anger is seldom 
of a very vindictive description, yours least of all so, and wlu n, 
after frowning him into penitence, you have graciously forgiven 
him, will not a serious rupture with the general be a source cf an- 
noyance (to use no stronger woid) both to you and Lord Bellefield? 

All that 1 would recommend,” continued Lewis, seeing that Annie 
bent down her head and made no iepl 3 \ ” w’ould be, not wdmt the 
law 3 ’ers term su 2 ^pressio Teri—l wt)uld not for the w^orld have you 
conceal anything; but much depends upon the spirit in which a tale 
is told, and 1 am anxious to save you from the subsequent regret 
which yielding to a momentary impulse of anger ma 3 ^ cost you.” 

” Tell me plainly what it is you think my father would do?” in- 
quired Annie abruptly. 

‘‘ 1 think— pardon me it 1 speak loo freely — 1 thiuk the general 
would resolve to break off the engagement which Mr. Leicester 
long since informed me existed between yourself and Lord Bellefield; 
and it was to save you the paiu such a resolve might cost you that 
1 ventured to offer my advice.” 

“You are mistaken,” replied his companion hurriedly; ‘‘such 
an airaugement as 3 mu refer to may have been, still is contemplated; 
but the idea was always distasteful to me, and anything which would 
preclude the possibiliiy of further refereuce to it would be to me a 
great subject of rejoicing rather than of regret. You may think it 
strange in me to speak thus openly to you; but 1 am sure uw confi- 
dence is not misplaced, and — and i am most anxious my father 
should understand cleaily the insult (for 1 consider it no less) my 
cousin has to-night offered me.” 

Whether the information thus communicated was a source of pain 
or pleasure to her auditor we must leave the reader to conjecture 
tor himself, as when Lewis next spoke his manner was calm and 
grave as ever. 

“ Tlicre is one possibility,” he said, ” of which you must not en- 
tirely iose sight; there may have been some urgent necessit 3 ' for 
Lord Bellefield’s presence elsewhere— some sufficient reason foi his 
a])parent neglect, which he will only have to mention in order to 
disarm ymir indignation and that of General Grant.” 

‘‘ Really, my cousin apnears to have secured a most able advo- 
cate,” returned Annie, with the slightest possible siiade of annoy- 
ance perceivable in her tone. ‘‘ 1 was scarcely prepared to find 3^11 
so zealous in Ids cause.” 

Lewis’s face grew" dark as he replied in a low, deep voice, 

” While 1 live Lord Bellefield shall always meet with tlie strictest 
justice at my hands! Justice!” he continued bitterly, ‘‘ it is a god- 
like principle, and sculptors have symbolized it w'ell — the blinded 
brow to show the stern singleness of heart, the scales to weigh the 
merits of the case, and the keen sword, the agent of a sudden and 
complete retribution.” 


L-EWTS ARUNDEL. 


2r)0 

lie spoke in a tone ol such deep and concentrated feeling Hint 
Annie, as she listened to his words, trembled involuntarily. With 
the keenness of a woman’s instinct she apprecialed the intenseness 
of the feeling and the power of the will tliat was tor the time able 
to control it. For the time!— in that phrase lay the secret ot her 
prescient terror. 

Lewis was loo much engrossed by the strength of his own emo- 
tions to perceive the alarm he had excited; nor was it till they 
reached the corner of Park Crescent that he again spoke: 

Plow did you contrive to become separated from the Countess 
Portici?’* lie inquired. You were absolutely alone among those 
people — were you not? — when 1 came up.” 

Scarcely had Annie infoimed him ot the circumstances which led 
to her desertion wlien the carriage stopped. 

“ The general wislii s to see you before you retire tor the night. 
Miss Grant,” insinuated the aristocratic butler, as, leaning on Lewis’s 
arm, Annie entered the paternal mansion. 

” Where is 103^ lather?” she inquired hastily — ” in the library?” 

Peceiving an afhrinalive answer, she continued, turning to Lewis: 

You must come with me; remember 3^our promise! 1 by no means 
consider myself safe till this interview is over.” 

Lewis smiled assent; his unnatural stiffness ot manner seemed to 
have disappeared like magic the moment their tete-d-tete was over 
and Annie was again restored to the protection of her own home. 

Ti)e general appeared in high good humor; “ You are late, 3'ou 
dissipated puss,” he said as Ann’c entered. ” Ah! Mr. Arundel,” 
he continued; “ 1 did not know 3'Ou had been of the party. What 
have you done with Emily and Bellefleld, Annie?” 

” Emily is sate at home,” was the reply; ” she would not come 
further than Berkeley Square; as to my Cousin Belletield, he must 
answer for himself, if he is not irrecoverably lost; he chose to 
leave us to take care of ourselves; we have had au adveuL 
ure, and I should have died of fright if Mr, Arundel had not 
come to my assistance, like one ot the good genii In the Arabian 
Nights Entertainments. But 1 must go to bed or Aunt Martha will 
he implacable; she always examines Lisetle on oath as to the prerise 
moment at which she flnally leaves my room. Mr. Arundel will tell 
you the whole history, much better than I can — so good-night i” 
and casting a glance, half arch, halt imploring, hut wholl}^ irresist- 
ibly, at Lewis, she glided out ot the apartment, and was gone ere 
the general had sufficiently ” come at ” the meaning of her speech 
to attempt to detain her. 

Fixing his eyes on Lewis with a look of sublime perplexity, which 
bordered closely on the ludicrous, he exclaimed, ” Pray, what is the 
in(‘aning of all this, Mr. Arundel? Can you explain to what my 
daughter alluded!” 

Thus called upon, Lewis was forced to narrate the adventures of 
the evening, with the details ot which the reader has been alread}^ 
made acquainted. 

The general heard him attentively, though his brow grew dark as 
he proceeded; he listened in silence, however, tiil Lewis began to 
describe the scene in the crush room at the opera-house, when he 
became so much excited that he sprung from his seat, and began 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


r/0 

mciu" the apartment with impatient strides. At the mention of 
Sir Gilbert Vivian’s impertinent behavior, he exclaimed: 

“ A scoundrel! 1 remember when he was broke upon parade tor 
insolence to his commanding otticer; — 1 hope you knocked him 
down, sir!” 

“ i ielt strongly tempted to do so,” replied Lewis, ” but he had 
several ot his friends with him, so that 1 should have been certain 
to get into a disagreeable squabble; and in that case what would 
have become ot JMiss Grant?” 

‘‘ Very true, sir, very true,” returned the general, hastily; ” next 
to courage, coolness In action is the greatest attribute in a soldier — 
that is to say, in a gentleman — and 1 honor your torhearance tnr 
such a cause. Shake hands, sir!” and, suiting the action to the 
word, General Grant crossed the room, and seizing Lewis by the 
hand, shook it warml3^ 

At this unusual disjday of feeling, Lewis's pale cheek flushed, 
and he continued his narration to the point when he handed Sir 
Gill»ert Vivian his card. Here he paused, and continued in an em- 
barrassed tone ot voice: ” 1 dare say he will take no notice of this, 
but if he should — of course 1 am asvare that the aftair must be left 
entirely in your hands, and that it is Lord Bellefield’s privilege to 
— to defend — that is, to resent any insult offered to Miss Grant; 
but, as you have so kindly signified your approval of my conduct 
in the affair hitherto— if you could reward me by allowing me to go 
out with this scoundrel — ” 

This was a request so thoroughly after the general’s own heart 
that, as he listened to it, his little bright eyes danced and sparkled 
with satisfaction, which he had much difficulty not to express in 
words, but his moral obligations as a disciplinaiian and the father 
of a family came across him, and he replied, ” Dueling is a practice 
alike subversive of military discipline and contrary to the dictates of 
religion; it is one, therefore, against which 1 have always — that is, for 
man}^ years past— felt obligecT to set my face. Until Lord Bellefield 
has afforded me some perfectly satisfactory explanation of his ex- 
iraordinar}’’ conduct, his intercourse with this household must en- 
tirely cease; a man who could thus neglect his trust is the la^t per- 
son to whom 1 should dream of committing the honor of— ahem — 
my family. As to this Sir Gilbert Vivian, from what 1 have heard 
of him, he is beneath the notice of a gentle man— quite a contempt- 
ible character; the fact of his annoying my daughter proves this. 
If it were not so, 1 vow to Heaven I’d tight the man myself on 
INIonda}^ morning.” And finishing with this consistent remark his 
tirade against dueling, the geneial resumed his peripatetic exercise, 
much to the detriment of the lib’^ary carpet. 

When Lewis had completed his recital his auditor again ” look 
the chair,” and leaning bis head on his hand, remained pondering 
the matter for some minutes in silence; at length he said, ” Did 
Lord Bellefield give you any possible clew to the reason why l:e 
could not return to the opera-house?” 

” He said nothing, sir, to throw any light upon the matter, but 
when I accidentally met him as 1 have already mentioned he ap- 
peared much agitated, his features were unusually pale and charac- 
terized by an expression— 1 should almost say ot horror.” 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 271 

“ Have you any knowleJsce of the house he was leaving? Why 
do you hesitate?” 

“ 1 will tell you frankly, General Grant,” reoliecl Lewis, drawing 
himself up and meeting the general’s scrutinizing glance with a 
clear, steadfast gaze. ” For some time past Lord Bellefield and 1 
have not lived on good terms together— since 1 have lived beneath 
your roof he is the only person who has treated me ungenerously, 
or caused me to feel the full bitterness of my dependent situation. 
Kespect for you and a sense of my own position have prevented my 
resenting his lordship’s conduct as under other circumstances 1 
might have done, but enough has passed between us to prove that 
we regard each other with no very friendly feeling.” 

” 1 was not aware at all of this; you should have told me this 
sooner, Mr. Arundel. 1 allow no one to be treated discourteously 
in my house.” interrupted the general hastily. 

” i should not have mentioned the fact now, sir,” replied Lewis, 
calmly, ” had 1 not been anxious to explain to you why it is in the 
highest degree repugnant to me to be forced by circumstances to 
appear as Lord Bellefield’s accuser, and thus lay myself open to the 
suspicion of being actuated by malicious motives.” 

” i^o one who iniew you would imagine that, sir,” returned the 
general; ‘‘ but the truth should always De spoken regardless of con- 
sequences, and you must yourself perceive how important it is that 
1 should form a just estimate of Lord Bellefield’s conduct in this 
affair.” 

Lewis paused a moment in reflection, and then replied, ‘‘ The 
part 1 have taken in this business was none of my own seeking, 
nor do 1 see that 1 am bound by any obligation of honor to with- 
hold from you the only other tacts of which 1 am aware in regard 
to the matter. 1 do happen to know the character of the house 
from which Lord Bellefield w^as coming out, for, as 1 walked <lown 
to the PaltEontological Bociety this afternoon with my friend Rich- 
ard Frere, he pointed it out to me as a gaming-house of some noto- 
riety.” 

The expression of the general’s face when he became aware of 
this unfortunate little fact grew so stern that an artist, wishing to 
paint some Roman father sacrificing his son, would have given all 
the small change lie might have about him for one glimpse of that 
inflexible countenance. Suggestive, however, of evil as was this 
circumstance, the whole affair appeared wrapped in such a veil of 
mystery that neither General Grant nor Lewis could as they that 
night lay awake revolving the matter in their anxious minds, arrive 
at any satisfactory hypothesis by which to account for Lord Belle- 
field’s extraordinary behavior. The following paragraph, wiiich 
appeared in several of the Sunday papers, and was n copied in the 
” Morning Post ” of IMonday, was the first thing that tended to en- 
lighten them; it was headed: 

” aA>alling suicide. 

” As our columns were going to press^ we received intelligence 
of one of the most awTul catastrophes which it has ever been our 
melancholy duty to recoid; we refer to the untimely' decease of 
Captain Mellerton, of the — th foot, who perished by his own hand 




LEWIS AKUKDEL. 


ia a notorious ganibling*house not far from Charing Cross. As far 
as we have been able to ascertain the facts of the case, the unfortu- 
nate young gentleman, who was adjutant of the — tli toot, lost a 

consideiable sum of money (it is said £12.000) loLonl B f a, 

a nobleman of sporting not(;riety, at the first Newmarket meeting. 
Being unable to meet to large a call upon his finances, he was in- 
duced in an evil hour to speculate with some of the regimental 
money committed to his charge, intending to replace it by the sale 
of an estate in Yorkshire; and having thus satisfied the demands of 
his noble creditor, he was on Saturday last unexpectedly called upon 
to send in his legimental accounts. In this extremity we have 

heard il rumored that he was inauced to apply to Lora B f d 

as the only person on whom he had the slightest claim; hut, if we 
have not been misinformed, the appeal was vain, and, urged to des- 
peration by this failure ot his last hope, the unfortunate young man 
repaired to the gambling-house in which the rash act w^as commit- 
ted, played deeply, and when fortune again declared against him, 
drew a loaded pistol from his breast, and before the bystanders 
were aware of bis design, terminated his existence by blowing out 
his brains. Captain JVlellerton was the eldest son of the Honorable 
H. Mellerton, of Harrowby Park, Beds., and was shortly to be mar- 
ried to Miss A D , daughter of Sir C D the wedding- 

day being fixed immediately after the commencement of the recess."’' 


CHAPTER XLL 

WHEREIN FAUST “SETS UP ” FOR A GENTLEMAN AND TAKES TO 
A COURSE OF SERIOUS READING. 

When General Grant had perused the “ Morning Post “ contain- 
ing the paragraph with which the last chapter concluded, he left 
the remainder ot his breakfast untasted, and hastening to the lib- 
rary, wrote the following letter: 

“ My Lord,— On hearing from my daughter the uncourteous, 1 
had almost written ungenilemanly, manner in w’hich yon neglected 
her safety on Saturday evening, 1 was naturally much incensed. A 
paragraph lef erring to you in the ‘ Post ’ of this morning affords a 
sufficient clew to the cause of your absence from the opera-house, 
but unfortunately does so by casting upon you an imputation whicb 
(unless you can explain the affair to my entire satisfaction) must 
necessarily break oft all intercourse between us. I am aware that 
.your CDmiuct may not have exceeded the limit which the world terms 
honorable, but I do not regulate m.y opinion by -tbe world’s stand- 
ard, and siiould consider that 1 was indeed neglecting my duty as a 
father were 1 to intrust m.y daughter’^ happiness to a garneslcr, 
whose success has involved the rum and self-murder of a fellow- 
creature. These may sound harsh terms, but unless you can dis- 
prove that ihey are true ones, 1 for the last time sign myself, yours 
faithfully. 


‘ ‘ Archibald Grant. ’ ’ 


LEWIS AKUXLEL. 


m 

Having relieved his mind by penning the above epistle, he dis- 
patched a mounted groom to convey it to its destination, and having 
Sien him ilepart, shut himselt up in solitary dignity to await an 
auswer. In less time than could have been imagined the groom re- 
turned. bearing the following missive; 

“ Lord Bellefield presents his compliments to General Grant, and 
having perused his strangely offensive letter, begs to decline afford- 
ing any explanation whatsoever of the conduct of which General 
Grant sees fit to disapprove. Lord Bellefield agrees in thinking 
that under these circumstances all intercom se between himself and 
the general’s family had better cease.” 

While the general sat in his library pondering over this agreeable 
epistle with a rueful counteuLnee, to which auger, vexation, and 
outraged dignity imparted a singularly undesirable expression, an 
eager and exciting conversation was being carried on in a pretty 
little apartment opening into a miniature conservatory, dedicated to 
the use of Annie Grant. Emily had arrived, all her own natural, 
fascinating, impulsive, silly little seif again, and had pooh-poohed 
any attempt ai coolness on Annie’s part, by throwing her arms 
around her neck and kissing her a very unnecessary number of 
times, under the plea of her being ‘‘ a dear ill-used thing who must 
be petted.” And having thus at one and the same time expiated 
her offenses and relieved her feelings, she danced across the room, 
bolted the door, drew a heavy damask curtain over it, and exclaim- 
ing, “Now we’re snug,” danced back again, and flinging herself 
into an easy-chair, began; 

‘‘ On, my clear Annie! 1 am so miserable, so utterly wretched. I 
must go back to Italy; I’ve written to Alessandro to come and fetch 
me directly. I siiall never be happy again —at least not till I’ve 
quite forgotten it all — and that wdll be never.” 

And here came out a little lace parody of a pocket-handkerchief, 
which, although by no means a desirable aiticle wherewith to face 
a violent cold in the head or at all calculated to withstand so much 
as a violent sneeze, yet sufficed to city the ghost of tlie tear which 
Emily’s deep wretchedness drew from her. 

” My dear Emily, ;vhat is the matter?” returned Annie, alarmed 
by a thousand vague tears, though, not having seen the paragraph, 
she was as yet unconscious of the darkest cloud that obscured the 
family horizon. 

“Oh, my love, 1 suppose 1 ought not to tell you anything about 
it, but 1 must, for I’ve no one else to confide in. That wretched 
Gus — would you believe it? he actually wuinted me to leave poor 
dear Alessandro, and to run away with him;” and then, with many 
ejaculations and much flourishing of the homoeopatbic sized band- 
kerchief, she went on to relate how, wdien she became separated 
from Annie at the opera-house, “ which was all that creature Gus’s 
fault, and done on piiipc'se,” she was certain, the “ creature ” had 
availed himself of the opportunity he had thus secured to urge his 
undying attachment to lun', which affection, desp te its inherent 
principle of vitality, he declared would assuredly bring him to an 
early grave in the event of her obduracy continuing; but Emily, 
though positively a flirt and uegulively rather a goose than other- 


274 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


wise, was not unprincipled, and so when she had overcome her first 
impulse of surprise and mortification, all the virtuous wife arose 
within her, and she gave Gus to understand, by dint of sundry 
short, sharp, and decisive plain-spoken unpleasantnesses, that he 
had made a false move and ruined his game. Thence lapsing ab- 
ruptly into a fit of sulky dignity, slie ordered him, with the voice 
amt gestures of a tragedy queen, to lead her to her carriage, tinaily 
dispatching the foiled lionne hunter to remedy one of his ill deeds 
by finding Annie, on which mission he departed in a state of mind 
the reverse of seraphic. Having concluded this historical episode, 
la coniessa proceeded to append theieunto certain auncdations and 
reflections, in the course of wfliich she contrived to fix much blame 
on society in general and on Gus and Alessandro in particular, but 
none whatever on her own fliriing manner and inordinate love of 
aitenlion; which self deluding analysis w’as by no means an original 
feature in the cause, but rather an unconscious imitation of the 
proceedings of many a deeper thinker than poor little Emily. 

The conference betw^een the girls was still at its height wdien a 
summons for Annie from her father interrupted the proceedings; 
whereupon Emily, declaring that neither her health nor spirits were 
then capable of undergoing the forte et dure ot an interview 
with Aunt Martha, drove home again to console her breaking heart 
with a volirme of Georce Sand’s last novel. The general was in a 
great state of virtuous indignation. Lord Bellefield’s note had been 
as gunpowder sprinkled over the smoldering embers of his wTath, 
and when Annie arrived they (or, to translate the metaphor slang- 
ice, he) “ flared up to an immense extent. He told her of all the 
enormities which the newspapers attributed to her cousin, and 
signified his b(‘lief that the case had been rather under stated than 
otherwise; he informed hei of Lewis’s rencontre wdth the delinquent 
at the door of a gambling-house; he adduced the note which he had 
just received as proof that its writer must be lost to all better feel- 
ing, utteily wanting in a proper respect for age and position: and, 
m short, he said a great many severe and unv/ise things, after the 
fashion of angry men in general, for which he was afterward very 
sorr3% hnding such speeches easier to say than to unsay — which re- 
sult is by no means uncommon in similar cases. 

Having relieved his feelings by this explosion he proceeded to the 
more ser ous business of the interview, by informing her that the 
necessary consequence of these uncomfortable revelations must be 
the dissolution of all ties, present or prospective, between herself^ 
and Lord Bellefield, which autocratic act he performed with out- 
w’ard austerity and inward trepidation, as he fully expected Annie 
to receive the harsh decree with a violent burst of tears, and, man- 
like, there was nothing he dreaded so much — lie would ratlier have 
faced a charge of cavalry any day. But to his surprise, Annie 
sustained the inlormation with a degree of stoic self-control that 
was perfectly marvelous. She neither wept, sighed, nor attempted 
the hysteric line; she only Baid gravely, “ It’s all very sad and shock- 
ing; but of course, dear papa, I am ready to agree to what you 
think best.” The general rubbed his hands. There was a daughter 
for you; not a word of opposition, to hear was to obey. It actual- 
ly restored hiGa to good humor; he talked to her kindly and sensibly 


L^WIS ARUNDEL. 


for a quarter of an hour, and then went out and purchased foi her 
a valuable dianioud bracelet, which was his idea of rewarding self- 
sacrifice in woman. And so did Annie involunlarilv and uncon- 
sciously gain high praise and honor for submil ling with resignation 
to a decree which afforded her unmitigated satisfaction. As she 
left the library she encountered peor W' alter, who appeared in un- 
usually high spirits. Next to Lewis Annie held the foremost place 
in W’alter’s affections, from the iiiivarving patience and kindness 
with which she treated him; moreover, having failed to inspire him 
with the degree of respect not unmingled with awe with which he 
was accustomed to regard his tutor, he looKed upon her in the liiiht 
of a companion and an equal, to whom it might be safe to confide 
certain mischievous performances in which, as his spirits acquired 
more elasticity and his mental powers began to develop, he saw fit 
from time to time to indulge. With some such intention did he 
now approach her, whispering as he drew near, “ 1 want you, 
Annie, 1 want you to come with me, and see Uaust dressed like a 
gentleman I’' 

“ See what, you silly boy?” returned Annie, lauglung. 

” Come with me and you shall see,” was the rhythmical and 
oracular response, and seizing her by the hand he dragged her off 
in the direction of the s.tting-room appropriated to his^Nvn use and 
that of Ids tutor. 

” Is Mr. Arundel there?” inquired Annie, pausing when she dis- 
covered their destination. 

‘‘No, he’s not at home; there’s no other gentleman there except 
jMr. Faust,” was the reply; and thus reassured Annie complied with 
the hoy's whim, and allowed him to carry her off unopposed. Now, 
since we have had an}’’ especial intercourse with that worthy dog 
Faust’s education had progressed rapidly as well as Walter’s. 
Lewis, partly from want of occupation during the many weary 
hours his attendance on Walter necessitated, partly because by so 
doing he was enabled to excite and interest the feeble intellect of 
his poor charge, had availed himself of the unusual power of con- 
trol he had acquired over the dog to teach him sundry tricks, some- 
what more aifticult to perform than the ordinary routine of canine 
accomplishments: for instance, having perfected him in silting on 
his hind-legs in the attitude popularly supposed to refuesent the act 
of begging, he went on to teach him to sit Ihus perched up in a 
corner for a space of time, gradually increasing as by practice the 
animal’s muscles acquired more rigidity, until at length it w’as no un- 
common feat for him to remain in this attitude for an hour at liter- 
ally a “sitting.” Moreover, if a light book or pamphlet w’ere 
placed on is tore paws lie would support it and sit gazing on tlie 
open page before him with a solemn gravity of countenance, indi- 
cating apparently the deepest interest in the work lie seemed to be 
perusing. Of the results of this educational course Walter had on 
the present occasion availed himself, and accordingly Annie, un her 
introduction to the study, found the excellent dog seated on his 
hind-legs in a corner with an extempore mantle formed of a red 
scarf, (irooping gracefully from his shoulders, and an old cap of 
Walter’s on his head. Thus attired, he appeared to be conning, 
with an expression of puzzled diligence, a tract against profane 


276 


LEWIS ARt^NDEL. 


swearing by Mrs. Hannah IMore, presented to Walter by Miss 
Livingstone 0:1 the occasion ot his inadverlently making use in her 
presence ot the scandalous expression, “ Bless my heart !'’ Annie, 
duly impressed by this spectacle, lauglied even more than Walter 
had hoped for, and told Faust that he was much the best dog in the 
world, in which assertion she was not, as we think, guilty of any 
great exaggeration. And Faust, taking the compliment to himself 
only when the occuirence of his name rendered the allusion unmis- 
takably personal, slobbered affectionately with his great comic 
mouth, and winked with his loving e^^es, and made abortive at- 
tempts to wag his friendly tail, which w’us crumpled up unwagably 
in the corner, and in the plenitude his excellence sal more erect 
than ever, and studied his profane swearing more diligeut!.y. 

As soon as Walter’s delight at Annie’s amusement had in some 
degree subsided, he turned to her, saying: 

“ But, Annie, you have not found out why 1 told you Faust 
looked like a gentleman.” 

” Oh! because lie sirs there reading his hook with such an air of 
dignified composiiie, 1 suppose,” was the reply. 

‘‘]Mo; I’d a better reason than that,” returned Walter, with a 
look of unusual sagacity. 

‘‘Well, then, ynu must tell me what it was, for 1 can’t guess,” 
observed Annie good-naturedly. 

‘‘ Look again and find out,’*’ rejoined Walter. 

Thus urged, Annie examined the dog more attentively than she 
had before done and discovered that around his neck was slung the 
identical gold watch and chain wdiich, al her suggestion, Charles 
Leicesler and his wife had given to Lewis. 

” W'hy, you’ve hung Mr. Arundel’s w^atch round Faust’s neck! 
Oh, Walter, how fooHsh of you; he might have thrown it down 
and broken it!” exclaimed Annie, aghast at her discovery. 

‘‘ Yes, that’s it,” returned W;ilter, chuckling with delight at the 
success ol his puerile attempt at a trick. ” All gentlemen wear 
gold watches, you know, and so does Mr. Faust.” 

‘‘ You ought not to have put it on h m; Fm sure Mr. Arundel 
will be very angry,” resumed Annie; and kneeling down by the 
dog she began untwisting the chain from his neck. ‘‘ Sit still, Faust; 
be quiet, sir,” she continued, as Faust in his affection attempted to 
take an uni air advantage of the situation to lick her hands and face, 
in which act of impertinence Walter sedulously encouraged him; 
still Annie persevered, and at length succeeded in disengaging the 
chain and rescuing the watch from its dangerous position. ” Tiiere,” 
she exclaimed, ‘‘ 1 have remedied the effects of your mischief. Mas- 
ter Walter; but 1 should never have been able to accomplish it if 
Faust had not been the best behaved, dearest old dog in the world;” 
and with an impulse of girlish playfulness she threw her arms 
round the animal and preSvSed his lough head against her shoulder, 
her soft auburn ringlets falling like a shower of gold upon his 
snaggy coat. 

At this moment Lewis, who had been to talk over bis Saturday 
evening’s adventures with Frere (or at least such portion of them as 
he choose to reveal, for on some subjects lie was strangely re- 
served even with Frere), returned, and finding the door ajar, entei’ed 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


277 


noiselessly, and stood transfixed by the sight of the tableau mmnt 
we have endeavored to describe, lie thought that he had never be- 
held anything so lovel}^ in ins life before; nor was he far wrong. 
The time that had elapsed since we first introduced Annie Grant to 
the reader had altered only to improve her beauty; her figure had 
gained a certain roundn^^ss of outline, and her face acquired a depth 
of expression, which had been the only finishing touclies wanting to 
complete one of th')se rare specimens of loveliness on which we gaze 
with a speculative wonder as to why so much beauty should be, as 
it were, wasted on this w'orld of change and sin and sorrow, and 
not reserved for that “ Better Land,’* 

“ Where all lovely things and fair 

Pass not away.” 

Whether ideas at all analogous to these presented themselves to 
the mind of Lewis we are unable to say; certain it is, however, that 
(his artist eye attracted by the picture" before him) he stood gazing 
as one entranced, while his color went and came and his broad chest 
heaved with the intensity of his emotion. How long affairs might 
have remained in this position it is impossible to decide had not 
Faust, becoming a ware ot his master’s presence by some mysterious 
canine instinct, made an unceremonious attempt to free himself 
from Annie’s caresses; and that young lady, raising her eyes, en- 
countered those of Lewis fixed upon her with an expression which 
changed in an instant from ardent admiration to one of grave court- 
esy, as he found that he was observed. Annie’s manner as she rose 
and came forward afforded but little clew whether or not she had 
noticed thio change, and though her color appeareii somewhat 
heightened, no want of self-possession was discernible as she said, 
holding up the watch: 

‘‘ See what 1 have been rescuing from the mischievous devices of 
Master Walter; he had actually hung my Cousin Charles’s present 
to you .round Faust’s neck, in order to make him look like a gentle- 
man, as he declared, vy alter, come and answer for your misdeeds. 

1 intend Mr, Arundel to be very angry with you — where are you, 
sir?” and as she spoke, she looked round tor" her companion, but 
whether really alarmed at the possibility ot being reproved for his 
mischief i>r whether actuated by some reasonless caprice of his halt- 
developed intellect, Walter was nowiiere to be found; so Lewis 
having thanked Annie for her care of his watch, politely held open 
the door lor her to depart. But wdien kidnapped by W alter, Annie 
had been carrying an armful of books, and Lewis, becoming aware 
of this fact, could do no less than offer to taKe them up to the draw- 
ing-ioorn lor her. Having accomplished this feat he was about to 
retire when il occurred to him that he was bound in common civility 
to inquire whether she had sustained any ill eftects from her alarm. 

” On, no,” replied Annie; ” thanks to your kindness and consid 
eration, 1 sm literally qmtte pour lapeury 

” 1 suppose,” she added hesitatingly, ” you have ere this learned 
the sad cause of Lord Beliefield’s absence on Saturday night?” and, 
on Lewis replying in the affirmative, she continued: ” And you be- 
lieve all that the newspapers insinuate? Can my cousin have really 
behaved so very wickedly?” 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


278 


“ 1 called on my friend Kicbard Frere this morning,” returned 
Lewis, ” and 1 learned from him that, the main facts ot the case are 
matters of notoriety; for instance, racing men are well aware that 
Lord Bellefield won a large sum of money from this unfortunate 
young man; nor would your cousin attempt to deny that it is so. I 
am not sufficiently acquainted with the fashionable London world 
to hazard an opinion on the subject; but Frere, who knows every- 
body, says the story has gained universal credence; and, though by 
no means disposed to judge human nature severely, believes in it 
himself.” 

‘‘It is very, very shocking,” murmured Annie; “and 1 had 
hoped it could not be true, but papa is much incensed, and believes 
it fully; and 1 fancy you do also, although, having such just cause 
to dislike my cousin, you are too generous to blame him.” 

“Indeed, you are mistaken,” returned Lewis kindly; for her 
manner confirmed him in an impression which had arisen in his 
mind, that the distaste she had expressed to the engagement with 
Lord Bellefield would vanish as her anger at his neglect cooled. 
“ Indeed, i do not think so: on the contrary, lhave a strong convic- 
tion that the affair has been misrepresented and exaggerated, and that 
your cousin will be able to clear himself, not only to your satisfac- 
tion, but to that of General Grant also.” 

“ Heaven forbid!” exclaimed Annie impetuously; and then, ere 
the words were well spoken, she continued; “ No, 1 do not mean 
that. How wicked of me to say so! But oh! it is such joy to feel 
that 1 am free— free as air!” Then, observing that Lewis’s eyes 
were fixed upon her with an inquiring glance, though his lips framed 
no sound, she added, wiih a bright blush, “ Tes, you were a true 
prophet, Mr. Arundel,” and, turning abruptly, she quitted the 
room. 

And Lewis! Did he rejoice that the man he hated was thus crossed 
in his dearest wishes, thus held up to public obloquy? Strange as 
many will deem it. he did not. On the contrary —except on Annie’s 
account — he was annoyed at the turn events had taken, in the first 
place, although the facts were so strong that he could not reason- 
ably discredit the reports that were in circulation, he felt a sort of 
instinctive belief that Lord Bellefield was not guilty ot all the evil 
laid to his charge. He recalled the expression of his face as he had 
seen it on the night of the suicide; it had not been that ot a man 
hardened in crime, who had left the victim ot his belting schemes, 
unaided in his extremity, to seek refuge fi;()m dishonor in the mad- 
ness of self-destruction; but rather that of a being of mixed good 
and evil, startled by some friirhtful reality ot life into a condition 
of temporary remorse. If Lewis could have realized Ins exact 
wishes at this moment, he woiikl have desired to clear ].<ord Belle- 
field’s character by his own unassisted efforts, and as a rew'aid to 
have Called him out the next morning and fought with small swords 
(pistols would have decided the matter too quickly to have satisfied 
him) till one or both should have furnished subjects tor the under- 
taker. Then his thoughts reverted to Annie — she was free, and re- 
joiced in her freedom, therefore she was to be won. Watch his 
features as the idea strikes him; first a flush ot joy, crimsoning brow 
and cheek, fading to the pale hue ot despair, then the clinched 


LEWIS ARUXDEL. 


279 


hand and compressed lips that tell of the strong will battling with, 
ay, and conquering— tor the will is as yet the stronger— the germs 
of a consuming passion. Brave young heart, tasting for the first 
time the true bitterness of life, angels might have wept to view thy 
gallant striving! 


CHAPTER XLll. 

LEWIS PRACTICALLY TESTS THE ASSERTION THAT VIRTUE IS ITS 
OWN REWARD, AND OBTAINS AN UNSATISFACTORY RESULT. 

The aphorism embodying the statement that a storm is usually 
followed by a calm, although by no means original, is not, on that 
account, the less true; nor, in tracing the course of events in the 
household of General Grant, shall we discover an exception to this 
rule in the “ law of storms.” Immediately after the incident we 
have related. Lord Belleiield (probably wishing to escape the disa- 
greeable notoriety likely to be obtained by his share in the catas- 
trophe) escorted his sister to Italy without making any attempt to 
deprecate the anger of General Grant; and although the Marquis of 
Ashford, who greatly desired that the proposed matrimonial alliance 
should take place (hoping that marriage might wean his son from 
various expensive pursuits, of the nature whereof the reader may 
have gleaned some faint idea from the previous course of this narra- 
tive), made sundry attempts to effect a reconciliation, the general 
remained inexorable. From his new position as occasional secretary 
to her father, Lewis was thrown into constant intercourse with 
Annie, while, from the deservedly high opinion General Grant had 
formed of him, he was treated more as a friend than a dependent. 
Before Mrs! Arundel and Rose left London Annie obtained her 
father’s permission to invite the latter to spend a few days with 
them. Rose placed the invitation in Lewis’s hand before showing 
it even to Mrs, Arundel; she divined that her brother would I eel 
strongly on the subject, and determined to be guided by his wishes; 
he read Annie’s note in silence; it was like herself, simple, frank^ 
and warm-hearted; it was accompanied by a few lines from the 
general, kind (tor liim) and courteous in the extreme. ” Miss 
Arundel would confer an obligation on his daughter by allowing 
her the opportunity of becoming acquainted with her,” etc., etc. 
The general had heard of Rose’s literary reputation, and looked 
upon her as a second Madame de Bta^l— a woman who had written 
a book appeared to his simplicity a thing as wonderful as, in these 
latter days, when, to speak poetically, the sun of literature is ob- 
scured by the leafy greenness of the softer sex, we are accustomed to 
regard a woman who has never done so. Lewis read the two notes; 
there was not a shadow of patronage from beginning to end, at which 
the most rampant pride could lake offense; the invitation was unex- 
ceptionable; and then a crowd of conflicting ideas rushed upon him, 
and he paced the apartment, for once in a state of the most complete 
indecision. This was not a mood of mind which could ever con- 
tinue long with Lewis, and, pausing abruptly, he said, ‘‘ 1 really do 
not see.how' you can well refuse after such a very kind note from— 
from the general,” 


280 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


•* I shall be delighted to accept it, dear Lewis, since you wish it 
as well as myself; 1 long to know more of that sweet Annie.” 

“You will be disappointed if you expect to find Miss Grant un- 
usually clever,” returned Lewis moodily; “ she has good natural 
abilities, but nothing more, neither has she been accustomed to live 
among intellectual people; she is by no means your equal in point 
of talent.” 

Rose looked surprised at this depreciatory speech; she considered 
Annie so fascinating that she did not imagine it in man’s nature to 
criticise her unfavorably, and that Lewis, of all people, should do so 
was very incomprehensible. She onljr replied, however, “ Miss 
Grant is much more accomplished than I am, at all events; she 
sketches like an artist, plays with gre d taste and execution, and 
sings most sweetly. 1 do not think it by any means an advaiitage 
to a w^oman to be unusually clever; it tends to force her out of her 
proper sphere, and to urge her into a degree of publicity repugnant 
to all the belter instincts of her nature.” 

“ 1 quite agree with you,” replied Lewis cordially. ‘‘ A woman 
should have a quick, vigorous intellect to enable her to perceive and 
appreciate the good, the true, and the beautiful, but nothing beyond. 
With a single exception, dear Rose, 1 consider literary women com- 
plete anomalies, things to wonder at and to pity; depend upon it, 
few women who devote their lives to literature are really happy.” 

As Lewis ceased speaking Rose sat tor some moments pondering 
the truth of the opinions which he, in common with many of the 
best and wisest of his sex, held on this subject. At length she said: 
” 1 agree, and yet 1 differ with you; surely a fine mind is one of 
the noblest gifts God can bestow upon his creature, because,” she 
added reverently, ‘‘the higher the intellect, the nearer ‘it must ap- 
proach to his own perfect wisdom; therefore talent ought to be a 
boon to woman as well as to man; but is it not in the application of 
that talent that the mischief lies? If the consciousness or mental 
superiority unfits a woman for the performance ot her natural du- 
ties instead of enabling her to fulfill them more thoroughly, the fault 
rests not in the gift, which is in itself a privilege, but in the misap- 
plication of it by the person on whom it is bestow^ed. Retirement 
is a woman’s natural position, and anything which leads her to 
forsake it tends to unsex and deteriorate her; 1 do not say that it 
must necessarily do so; if, for instance, some pious motive, such as 
a desire to assist her family, actuates her, she often appears to be 
protected from the dangers which surround the path wliich she has 
chosen, but that these dangers are great and many it is vain to deny.” 

“My opinion is,” rejometl Lewis, “that among either men or 
women those only should write books who, from some cause or 
other, are so thoroughly imbued with their subject that utterance 
becomes, as it were, a .i^ecessity; then, and then only, do they pro- 
duce anything great and good. The strongest argument 1 know 
against women writing is that they never appear to exceed pleasing 
mediocrity. You have no female Shakespeare or jVIilton — even 
Byron and Scott are unapproachable by the bravest of your literary 
Amazons. Oertainl}'- w^unen should not write.” And, having ut- 
tered his opinion much as if he would have' liked to alter the 
“ should ” into “ shall,” and to be made autocrat of England till he 


LEV7IS ARUNDEL. 


281 


had piirgeil the land from blue stockings, Lewis took his lial and 
departed, leaving that “ talented authoress,” his sister, to chew the 
cud of his encouraging observations as best she might. 

The practical result of this conversation was that Rose spent a 
week in Uark Crescent, and thus the occurrences thereof fell out; 
Miss liivingstone first catechised, then patronized the young tutor s 
sister. The general also tried a pompously condescending s\stem, 
but Rose’s sweetness subdued the old soldier; and ere the week had 
passed he became devoted to her, and, in his stately fashion, loved 
her on y a little less than his own daughter. And Annie— she first 
began by being afraid of her new acquaintance, because she was an 
authoress; then she discovered that she was not so alarming after 
all; next it occurred to her that she was very sensible; that she was 
very aflectionate, which went a great way with Annie; and finally, 
that she was quite perfect and exactly the friend slu had been all 
her life oining for. Jb'rom the moment she discoveied this, which 
was once upon a time when Rose, carried away by the heat of con- 
genial conversation, began to talk about her brother, she delighted 
to lay bare her pure girlish heart to her new-fouud friend. And 
what does the reader suppose it contained? Any very mysterious 
secret, any dire and soul-harrowing episode, as became the heart of 
a heroine? Alas, tor poor degenerate Annie! there were no such 
interesting contents in her w^arin little b:»som,only much simplicity, 
sundry good resolutions containing the germs of future self-discrp- 
hne, great natural amiability, a ready appr*eciation of all that was 
excellent in art or nature, and an open and unbounded admiration of 
and respect ior the character of Lewis, so open indeed, that Rose 
thankfully acknowledged to her secret soul that one alarming pos- 
sibiliiy, wdiich had lately occurred to and haunted her, viz., that 
Annie and Lewis were falling in love with each other, bad no foun- 
dation in fact. The only drawback to Rose’s pleasure in her visit 
was, strange to say, the behavior of her brother. His manner wiieu 
alone with her— and tlie delicate tact of Annie Grant afforded them 
many opportunities for a Ute-d-Ute — was w^ayward and fitful in the 
extreme. Sometimes, but very seldom, he appeared low and out of 
spirits; at others he was cold and sarr’astic, or even perverse and 
unjust; and, though these fits were invariably followed by expres- 
si- ns of the most affectionate regard toward Rose herself, yet the 
idea with which they impressed her w'as that his mind was ill at 
ease, and that for some reason w'hicli he studiously concealed he 
WMS unhappy. The week passed away like a dream, and Annie, as 
she parted from her new friend, felt as it some being of a superior 
order, endowed with pow’er to make and keep her good, w'ere leav- 
ing her, again to fight single-handed with the trials and temptaiioiis 
of life. 

Frere had been dispatched by his scientific superiors to inspect 
certain organic remains which had come to light during the forma- 
tion of a railroad cutting in the north of Ireland, which remains, 
assumed to be the vertebrae and shin bone of an utter impossibility 
(the comparative anatomical sketch, which Frere designed on the 
expede llerculem principle, represented the lamented deceased as 
a species of winged hippopotamus, with a bird's head, a crocodile’s 
tail, and something like an inverted umbrella round his camelopard- 


5S2 


LEWTR AKl^KDKL 


like neck, formvuR a whole more picturesque than probable), ex- 
ciieil the deeptsl interest in tiie world of science, which lasteci till, 
unluckily, one of the workmen, striking his pickax against a par- 
tially embedded bone, found that the Rumpaddyostodou (for so had 
Frere’s already named it) was composed of Irish oak. 

Ere Frere returned frcm this expedition, Mrs. Arundel and Rose 
had quitted London, a iact \\hich annoyed that gentleman more 
than he could reasonably account for; having, however, recovered 
from his strange fit of shyness, he wrote Rose a long account of his 
adventures, winding up by originating a pressing invitation to him 
self to spend a fortnight with them during the vacatiun, which in- 
vitation he not only accepted most graciously, but with the utmost 
benevolence volunteered to prolong to three weeks if he could possi- 
bly manage it. 

Lewis, shortly after the departure of his mother and sister, re- 
ceived what Annie termed “ marching orders,” viz., an intimation 
that on a certain day and hour he and his pupil were to hold them- 
seh^es in readiness to start for Broaahurst, it being one of the gen- 
eral’s pet idiosyncracies to manage his family movements mltalwi, 
by jerks as it were, which disagreeable habit be had acquired during 
his campaigningdays, when the exigencies of military service necessi- 
tated such abrupt proceedings. The consequence of this particular 
exercise of discipline was that Lewis received the following note on 
the evening before their departure: 

“Dear Sir,— Learning this morning accidentally that you were 
about to leave town to-morrow, and wishing much to see you on a 
matter of some importance before jmu do so. shall 1 b^ putting you 
to any great inconvenience if 1 ask you to do me the favor of break- 
tasting with me to-morrow? Name your own hour from six o’clock 
downward; my bo}" is waiting, or more properly (you know his 
mendacious propensities) lying in wait for your answer. 

N. B. — 1 am aware of ihe utter vileness of that pun, but my iuk 
is so confoundedly thick that reallv 1 could not make a better one. 

“ Yours faithfully, 

“ T. Bracy.” 

To this Lewis replied that he would be with him by eight o’clock 
on the following morning, and was as crood as his word. 

“ This is kind of you, Mr. Arundel,” exclaimed Bracy, shaking 
him heartily by the hand, “ 1 like a man who will come to you at 
a minute’s notice; now, as 1 know your time’s short, we’ll go lo 
work at once and talk as we eat. Bring iheeggs and rolls. Orpliy. ” 

“ Please, sir, they ain’t none of ’em come,” responded the indi- 
vidual thus addressed, who was no less a personage than the tiger 
“ for falsehood famed.” 

“ 1 knew he’d say that,” observed Bracy aside, with a look of 
exultation, “ 1 knew he’d say so because 1 saw the man bring ’em 
five minutes ago; sharp boy* he never loses any opportunity of ly- 
ing. Perhaps they may have arrived while 3 mu’ve been up here,” 
he coniiuued blandly; “ go and see, Orph}^” 

“ What do you call your tiger?” inquired Lewis, as the imp dis- 
appeared. 

“ Why, his real name is Dick Timmias,’* returned Bracy; “1 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


283 


have taken the trouble to ascertain that fact beyond a doubt; of 
course, 1 should not have believed it merely upon his authorit}^; but 
1 call him Urphy, which is a convenient abbreviation of Orpheus, 
because, like that celebrated mythical musician, he is at all times 
and seasons perfectly inseparable from a lyre! ‘a poor pun,’ sir, 

‘ but mine own.’ ” 

“ It must surely be inconvenient and troublesome to be obliged 
perpetually to guard against some deception or other, to be in con- 
tinual doubt as to what has or what has not taken place in your 
household,” remarked Lewis. 

” ^^ot at all, my dear Arundel; there’s the beauty of it,” returned 
Bracy; ” others doubt and are perplexed, but 1 am never at a loss 
for a n?omeQt; 1 know all his most intricate involutions of^lying, 
and can track him through a course of falsehood as a greyhouncl 
follows a hare. That boy could not deceive me unless he were sud- 
denly to take to telling the truth: but there’s not the least feai of 
that; his principles are too well established. Ah! inter alia, here he 
comes — do you see the pun? Presuppose an Irish brogue, and ac- 
cent the penultimate instead of (he first syllable in the second word; 
and It’s not such a bad one after all.” 

When, to use the popular lyric style, ‘‘the false one had depart- 
ed,” and the gentlemen were again left tete-a-tete, Lewis, reminding 
his companion that his time was short, hinted that it would not be 
amiss if he were at once, to acquaint him with the business to which 
he had referred in his note. 

“Ah! yes, to be sure,” replied Bracy. “it was a letter 1 had 
from Freie 3 "esterday which put the thing into my head. Lei us 
see, what does he say V* And pulling a letter froin his pocket he 
ran his e 3 ’^e down it, reading and soliloquizing somewhat after the 
fallowing fashion. “ [lum! ha! ‘ Kever take shares in an Irish rail- 
way ’—thank ye, 1 never mean to — ‘ The natives in these pints are 
not cannibals, at which no one at all particular in his eating would 
wonder, after seeing the state of filth ’ — well, 1 won’t read that; it 
will spoil our breakfast — ‘ The organic remains are coming out 
splendidly; 1 feel little doubt that they mml have belonged to some 
antediluvian monster yet unknown to science.’ Ah! the fossil re- 
mains of a pre- Adamite Irish bull probably; and that’s another, by 
Jove, for there would have been nobody to make it at that lime of 
day; there’s a P. S. about it, though — Ah! here it is — ' Only 
lanc 3 ^, my organic remains prove to be vegetable, not animal; noth- 
ing more nor less than a new species of Irish oaks.’ A new species 
ot Irhh hoax, rather; 1 wonder how he came to miss the pun— some 
men do throw awa 3 ^ their opportuniiies sadly; but Pm wasting 3 mur 
time: now then — ‘ In regard to what you tell me about the 
Bellefield affair, 1 can do nothing, not being on the spot; your best 
plan will be to communicate with Lewis Arundel; he is thorougtily 
aufait as to the whole matter: tell him everything, and act accord- 
ing to his advice. You may safely do so. I always thought his 
lordship a great scoundrel ’ (rather strong language!), ‘ but in this 
ease he appears more to be pitied than blamed; 1 like fair play all 
the world over, and would give even the devil his due.’ — T here,” 
continued Bracy, folding up the kUti, “ that's w’hat Richard Frere 


284 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


says, and I, knowing liis advice lo be good, am prepared to act 
upon it,” 

“ It may becood,” returned Lewis, in a tone of annoyance; “ but 
as far as 1 am concerned, it is particularly enigmatical. There are 
many reasons why it is uiuiesirable, 1 may say impossible, for me 
to interfere with Lord Bellefield’s aflairs.” 

“ Still, if you are the man I take you to be,” replied Bracy seri- 
ously, “ you‘ would not wish any one to labor under unjust imputa- 
tions fioin which a word of truth can set him tree. But it is no 
use beating about the bush; bear what 1 have to say, and then you 
can act or remain neuter, as you please. Of course you read the 
new’spaper account of that sad business about poor Mellertou?” 

Lewis replied in the affirmative, and Bracy continued, “ Except 
in one or two points the statement w^as substantially correct; but 
these happen to be latffi r important ones. In the first place, 1 should 
tell you that Mellerton w as an intimate friend of my own. We were 
great cronies at Eton, and never lost sight ot each other afteiward. 
1 first heard of this betting affair from an officer of high rank, wdio 
holds an appointment by which he is necessarily a good deal behind 
the scenes at the War Office. Somehow it reached his cars that 
Mellerton had been betting heavily and met with severe losses, and 
knowing that 1 had some influence with him he wished me to give 
him a friendly hint, wffiich 1 accordingly did. Mellerton took it 
very well, poor fellow I and thanked me for my advice, which was 
his invariable custom, though 1 can’t say he usually acted upon it. 
He confessed that he had lost more mone}^ than was convenient, 
and told me he had been forced to bonow, but the amount ot his 
losses he studiously concealed. On the morning of the day ot his 
death the same person sent for me again, and told me he was afraid 
Mellerton had been behaving very madly, and, in the strictest con- 
fidence, informed me that it w^as determined upon to examine into 
his accounts, and that if, as he feared, they would not bear the light, 
his character would be blasted for life, addingthatl w^as at liberty to 
warn him of this and give him an opportunity, if possible, of re- 
placing the money. Owing to a chapter of accidents, as ill luck 
would have it, 1 w^as unable to meet with Mellerton till late in the 
evening, when 1 found him in a state of distraction, having just 
received officially the information 1 had sought to forestall, freeing 
how much I knew already, he told me everything. 1 w ill not re- 
capitulate the miserable details, but the newspapers did not overstate 
the truth. Well, as a forlorn hope, 1 suggested the appeal to Lord 
Bellefleld’s generosity, and, after much persuasion, he agreed to 
let me make the trial. 1 sprung into a hansom cab and drove like 
the wind to Ashford House. Bellefield was dining with his sister; 
1 followed him lo Berkele}^ Square, and then lo the opera honse, 
where 1 lost not a minute in explaining my business. Well, sir. 
instead of rejecting the appeal, as has been reported. Lord Bellefield 
appeared greatly distressed at the intelligence— jumped into his cab, 
taking nut with him, and as we drove down to poor Melhrton’s 
lodgings, expressed his readiness to do whatever 1 thought be«t — 
adding that he had £10,000 at his banker’s wddeh was quite at Mel- 
lerton’s service till he could sell his Yorkshire estate. The rest of 
the tale you know. The poor fellow, thinking, from my prolonged 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


28 o 


absence, that my attempt had failed, and unable to bear the disgrace 
of exposure, placed a loaded pistol in his pocket, repaired to a 
gaming-table, betted to the full amount of his defalcation, lost, and 
blew his brains out. We got there just as the surgeon they had 
sent for declared life was extinct; and you never saw a man so cut 
up as Bellefield was about it. He accused himself of being a mur- 
deier. and, in tact, seemed to feci the thing nearly as much as 1 did 
myself. As soon as he had a little recovered, he volunteered to 
diive to Kniglitsbridge, to break the thing to poor Fred Mellerton’s 
brother, while 1 did ihe same by his mother and sisters; and a nice 
scene 1 had of it— 1 thought the old lady would have died on the 
spot. But now to come to the point: 1 hear that old Grant, believ- 
ing all the newspaper lies, has quarreled with his intended! son-in- 
Jaw and broken oft the eniragement; and that Lora Bellefield, too 
proud to make any explanations, has allowed him to continue in his 
mistake. Is this so?” 

” 1 have no reason to believe your information is incorrect, ” was 
the cautious reply. 

“In that case, don’t you think it is due to Lord Bellefield to 
acquaint General Grant with the truth?” 

Lewis paused for a minute or two in ihoiight ere he replied: 
” Certainly it would be most unjust to withhold it.” 

” Well, I’m very glad you agree with me.” returned .Bracy, rub- 
bing his hands wiih the air of a man who has escaped some dis- 
agreeable duty, ” Then i may depend upon you to set the matter 
right?” 

” Upon me!” rejoined Lewis, in surorise. 

” Aes to be sure,” was the reply; ‘‘ that’s what Frere expects. 
You see, it’s rather a delicate aft air for a man to interfere in; par- 
ticularly one who is a complete si ranger. 1 don’t believe 1 ever set 
eyes on General Grant in my life. Now you, living in the house, 
can find a hundred oppoitunities. There is a good deal in selecting 
{"hQ molU<i tempova j^andi with men as well as with women.” 

” Then i am to understand that you have related these tacts to 
iiie for the express purpose of my communicating them to General 
Grant?” 

” Yes, to be sure. Do you think I should have put you to the in- 
convenience of coming here this morning merely for the sake of hav- 
ing a gossip?” 

‘‘ And suppose 1 weie to refuse to make this communication?’" 
returned Lewis. 

“Such a supposition never occurred to me,” replied Bracy, in 
amazement; ” but if you were to do such an ill-natured thing, mat- 
ters must take their own course. In telling you, I’ve done all that 
I consider 1 am in any way called upon to do; if you, for any rea- 
son, (leeni it inadvisable to enlighten General Grant, there the thing 
must rest Frere tells me to be guided by your advice, and so 1 
shall; as 1 have just said, I leave it entirely lo you. ” 

” 1 understand you perfectly,” rejoined Lewis, and as lie spoke a 
contemptuous smile curled his lip; “stiii justice requires that the 
general sliould be enlightened, and although there are many reasons 
why It is painiul and objectionable lo me to do so, yet there are 


286 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


Others which prevent my refiisiuc; and now, Mr. Bracj", as my 
lime is short, you will excuse my being obliged to leave 

“ Oh I ceitainl}',” returned Bracy, as his visitor rose to depart. 

“ ‘ Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.’ 

Liberty Hall this, sir! chacun d son gout — ‘ everybody has the gout,’ 
as the little giil at the boarding-school construed it. Then you will 
make General comprehend that in this particular iistance 

Bellefield behaved like a brick? Disagreeable business to be obliged 
to iutertei’e in, but as Frere sa3"s, you’re just the man to do it; good- 
rnoining. ” And uttering these words with greatest empressement, 
he shook Lewis’s hand warmly, and suftered him to depart. As 
the door closed on his retreating figure, Bracy threw himself back 
in an eas}'- chair. 

“ There is something in the wind that I’m not up to,” he mut- 
tered in soliloqu}^; “ 1 don’t comprehend that good youth at all. 
There must be private feeling mixed up in it; something in the love 
and murder line, 1 suspect. How savage he looked when he under- 
loo tne job; rather he than I, though; Bellefield’s just as likely" to 
call a man out as to say thank ye for interfering, but as Frere says, 
Arundel’s just the man to carry the thing through. He’s a plucky 
young man and deucedly good-looking, but he certainly does not 
appreciate wit — ahem — that is, puns — properly.” And with this 
rclleclion, Bracy took pen and paper, and sat him down to indite an 
e-say on moral courage and the responsibility of man, wherewitu to 
fill up ii vacant corner of ” Bbmt’s Magazine.” 

And Lewis— wdiat a tasl;;, had he undei taken! He, who would 
have made rny sacrifice to gratify Annie’s lightest wish, must now 
bring the first cloud over the sunshine of her young life; he must 
be the means of reconciling her father and Lord Bellefield; he must, 
by his own act, give the woman he loved to the man he hated. The 
woman he loved!— had then the fear that had lain cold and heavy 
at his heart, that had come between him and — resignation, assumed 
a definite shape? did he at length own that he, the poor tutor, tljc 
pa’d dependent, loved the rich man’s daughter? Oh! Lewis, 
where w'as thy pride — wheie that Hell-Angel, beautiful in evil, 
which hath haunted thee even from thy childhood upward like a 
second self? Had Rose’s tears prevailed, and thy pride deserted 
thee? Would that it had been so; but no, he had not yet learned 
that hardest lesson for the young and brave-hearted, self-distrust; 
his bosom-sin clave to him, and, striving single-handed, how should 
he subdue it? 

Lewis wars not one of those who deceive themselves Jong on any 
point ; and his emotions after the scene at the opera-house, the 
amount of self-control he was obliged to exert to restrain any out- 
break of feeling in the tete d-tete drive with Annie, bad revealed the 
truth to him, and ere he slept that night he knew that now indeed 
was the sum of his wTetchedness complete; for he loved for the first 
time one fitted to call forth all the depth and earnestness of his pas- 
sionate nature, and he loved without hope, Pressing his hands to 
his burning brow, he sat down calmly to think. Calmly! yes, the 
treacherous repose of the smoldering volcano were an apt illustra- 
tion of such forced calmness. Renunciation and self-conquest! this 


LVAXIS ARUNDEL. 




then was bis portion for the lime to come. Self -conquest! Pride 
caug})t at the word; an enemy strong as the strength of will, whic h 
should subdue it. Reason cried, “Flee from temptation;’’ but 
pride whispered, “The task is worthy of you; accomplish it.’’ 
And resolution aided pride, and the iron will came into play, and 
the contest was begun. And now the reader can understand wh}^ 
Lewis's interview with Bracy would scarcely tend to raise his spirits 
or render his general frame of mind more satisfactory. 

Punctual to the moment, the carriaire made its appearance, drawn 
by four posters: and the general and the two ladies ensconced them- 
selves in the interior, while, the day being lovely, Lewis and his 
pupil took possession of the rumble. About two miles from Broad- 
hurst was a steep hill , on reaching this point, Annie and her father, 
and Lewis and ‘Walter alighted, with the intention of walking up; 
but before half the distance was accomplished the general pleaded 
guilty to a very decided twinge of gout, and, unwilling to provoke 
a second, re-entered the carriage, the others continuing their pedes- 
trian exertions without him. 

Annie, delighted to regain the freedom of the country, was in 
high spirits. “ Why do people stay in London at this" time of 
year?” she exclaimed. “This lovely sky, and the trees, and the 
birds, and the sunshine, are worth all the operas, and pictures, and 
balls, and every sight or amusement London can afioid; those things 
excite one for an hour or two, but this makes me perfectly happy.” 

Lewis glanced at lier for a moment, sighed involuntarily, and 
then, rousing himself, uttered some commonplace civility, which 
so clearly proved that he was forcing himself to make conversation 
from the subject ot wdiicb his thoughts were far away, that Annie, 
struck by his manner, paused and fixed her large eyes earnestly 
upon him. At length she said: 

“lam sure you, are ill or unhappy, Mr. Arundel. 1 am now too 
well aware how utterly unable 1 am to compensate for the loss ot 
such a friend and counselor as dear Rose (or, how I envy you tliat 
sister!), but it you would sometimes tell me when you are annoyed 
or out of spirits, instead ot wrapping yourselt iu that cold, proud 
mantle of reserve, 1 think even such poor sympathy as mine might 
make 3^011 happier.” 

Lewis glanced round. Walter, actuated by some caprice ot his 
wayward intellect, had run on before; they were virtually alone. 
Now, it had occurred to Lewis tliat as Auuie hal allowed him to 
perceive her dislike to rhe idea of a union with Lord Belletleld, he 
should entirely lose lier good opinion were she to learn that it was 
through his representations that a reconciliation with her fatlier had 
been brought about; aud although this w’ould have been a very de- 
sirable result for many reasons, and have materiall}^ assisted him iu 
his design of conquering his unhappy attachment, yet he by no 
means appeared to approve ot the notion, but on the contrary had. 
with his usual fearlessness, determined to seize the first opportunity 
of explaining to her wh}" reason aud justice obliged him to act in 
opposition to her wishes. And now that the opportunity had ar- 
rived, the considerate kindness of her address disarmed him, and, 
in the unwillingness to infiicl pain on her, he halt abandoned his 
purpose; but here his strength ot will— that fearful agent for good 


2S8 


LEWIS AETODEL 


or for evil— came into action and settled the matter. It was right; 
it must be clone. Accuulingiy he ilianivecl her for her kindness, 
made her a pretty speech as to valuing her s^mipatliy, which ex- 
pressed somewhere about one-fitteenth ot what he really telt on the 
subject; said, which was (piite true, that nothing hart for a long 
lime aftorded him greater i)Ieasui’e than the triendship which had 
sprung up between her and Rose; then, speaking in a low, calm 
voice, he continued, “ 1 have been botii grieved and annoyed this 
morning; you guessed rightly wlien you tliought so. Will you 
forgive me, ami still regard me as your friend, when 1 tell you that 
circumstances toice me to act in direct opposition to your wishes, 
and do that of which 1 tear you will highly disapprove?” 

Anuie looked at him with an expression ot surprise and alarm; 
which gave way to a bright, trustful smile as she replied, “ JNotliing 
can lead me to doubt your triendship, Mr. Arundel; 1 have had 
proots of its sincerity too convincing tor me ever to do so. It you 
are obliged to say or do anything which may pain me, 1 am sur'e 
you teel it to be duly which compels you. And now^ tell me what 
it is to which you reter.” 

Poor Lewis! tlie smile and the speech went straight to his heart, 
like the stroke ot a poniard; pride, resolution, and all the other 
false gods he relied on disappeared before it; and for the moment 
love was lord of all. But self-control had become so habitual to 
him that the most acute observer could not have detect oil the 
slightest indication ot the inward struggle; and ere he spoke his 
will had resumed its mastery, and his purpose held good. He gave 
her, in as few worJs.as possible, an account ot his interview with 
Bracy, and toirt her that it was his intention immediately to ac- 
quaint General Grant with the facts that had thus come to his 
knowledge 

She heard him in silence: and when he had finished she said in a 
low voice, which thrilled witli suppressed emotion, ” JMy father will 
forgive him, and all will be as it this thing had never happened.” 
They walked on side by side, but neither spoke. At lengili Lewis 
said, ” I have told .you this man and 1 were not on friendly terms; 

1 now tell you Hint he has heaped insult after insult upon me till I 
HATE him. Yes, you may start and your gentle woman’s nature 
may condemn me; but it is so; 1 hate him.” lie spoke calml}^ 
but it only rendei’ed bis words more terrible, for it told not merely 
of the angry impulse of Ite moment, but of the deep conviction of 
a life-lime; and Annie sliuddered as she listened. Regardless of her 
emotion, Lewis continued: “Circumstances have, in this instance, 
torceci me to appear as Lord Bellefield’s successful accuser. To 
some minds this petty triumph might have allordcd satistaction ; to 
me it has been a source ot unmixed regi’et; the relrilnition I seek 
is not of such a nature. Fate lias now placed in my hands the 
means of vindicating his character; and every principle ot honor, 
nay, ot common justice, binds me to do so. We may not do evil 
tliat good may come. 1 should forfeit my self-respect forever were 
1 to conceal this knowledge from your father*. Eon would not have 
me do so, I am certain?” 

Lewis paused for a reply; there was silence tor a moment, and 
then, in a lov/, broken voice, Annie said, “ No! you must tell him. 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


289 


Butl all) very, very wretched!” And uttering the last words witli a 
convulsive sob, she covered her face with her hands, and turned 
away to conceal the tears she could no longer repress. 


CHAPTER XLlll. 

ANNIE GRANT TAKES TO STUDYING GERMAN AND MEETS WITH AN 
ALARMING ADVENTURE. 

Whether the sif^ht of Annie’s tears would have produced any 
change in Lewis’s determination had their continued un- 

interrupted is a question in regard to which psychologists may arrive 
at an)^ conclusion which pleases them— for Walter having literally, 
or figuratively, caught his butterfly, rejoined his companions almost 
immediately, and, under cover of his puerile volubility, Annie con- 
trived to dry her eyes and outwardly regain her composure. 

In the course of the following morning Lewis found an opportu- 
nity of making the important communication. General Grant 
heard him with grave attention, and when he had concluded, ob- 
served : 

” This alters the whole aspect of the affair. Any man may com- 
mit a fault, but if he sees his error and is willing by every means at 
his command to alone for it, it behooves generous-nuuded persons 
to forgive Idm. 1 perceive that 1 have in this instance acted hastily, 
and owe Lord Bellefield reparation. 1 shall write to him immedi- 
ately, and have to tliank you, Mr. Arundel, for affording me this 
information, which may give me an opportunity of effecting a rec- 
onciliation with one on whom 1 had. long since decided to bestow 
my daughter’s hand. Your disinterested, J may say magnanimous 
conduct in this matter, entitles you to my fullest confidence. 1 shall 
make it an express stipulation that Lord Bellefield evinces tor the 
future all due consideration toward you.” 

And this speech, and the haunting memory of Annie’s tears, were 
Lewis’s reward lor doing his duty. 

The result of this communication w^as that the general wrote a long 
letter to Lord Bellefield, using many words to express his meaning 
which might have been advantageously compressed into halt the 
number; however, it satisfied its composer, who considered it a 
miracle of diplomacy and a model of style. Lord Bellefield’s 
answer was cold and haughty: his pride had been wounded, and 
his was not a mind frankly to forgive an injur}^ of that nature; still 
he did not reject the general’s overtures. He was going to travel in 
Greece (he wrote), but on his return to England he would see Gen- 
eral Grant, and retute the calumnies which had been spread to his 
disadvantage; he was aware that he had enemies who might he glad 
to avail themselves of any opportunity to vilify his chaiacter, hut 
he trusted to the general's sense of justice to discourage such at- 
tempts. And the contents of this letter were communicated to 
Annie by her father, together with a rebuke for having so easily be- 
lieved reports to her cousin’s disadvantage, which lecture somewhat 
failed in its effect from the unlucky fact that, in this particular in- 
stance, the lecturer’s practice happened to have been diametrically 
10 


290 


LEWIS ARUXDEL. 


opposed to bis pleaching; but the rebuke led to one evil result, viz., 
it crushed in the bud a half formed project which Annie had con- 
ceived of acquainting her father v^itli her growing disinclination to 
a union with her cousin, and of imploring him to lake no step 
toward a renewal of the engagement. IMoral courage (save when 
her feelings were very strongly excited) was not one of Annie’s 
attributes, and as the evil she feared was not a proximate one, she 
trusted to chance to postpone it still further, if not to avert ii alto- 
gether. Thus, being naturally of a light-hearted, joyous tempera- 
ment, she ere long recovered her usual gayet3% and an occasional 
sigh or a quarter of an hour’s unwonted abstraction alone attested 
her recollection of this dark speck on the horizon of her luture lite. 

The return to Broadhurst appeared to produce a soothing effect 
upon Lewis also— it gave him an opportunity calmly to review his 
position; and a new idea struck him, generalizing from which lie 
sketclied out a system different from that which he had hitherto 
pursued in regard to Annie Grant. True, he could never hope to 
call her his — love was forbidden him; but friendship, warm, ardent 
friendship — love elevated, spiritualized, purified from the slightest 
admixture of passion — this he might enjoy salely; it only required 
a strong effort of will, a determined, uniform exercise of self con- 
trol. To be enslaved by hopeless love was mere weakness; to crush 
the sentiment entirely was quixotic and uncalled for; but to con- 
trol and regulate it— to fix limits which it should not exceed, and 
thus to convert a curse into a blessing — this was an effort worthy 
of a reasonable being, and this he would accomplish. In oi'der to 
carry out this design he determined no longer to avoid Annie as he 
had done; it was cowardly to fiy thus from temptation: besides, it 
was evidently useless to do so; imagination supplied the deficiency, 
and the evil was but increased. INo, he would face the danger and 
subdue it, Thus, too, he might be of use to her: lor with all his 
admiration of her chaiacter, he read it aright, and saw that there 
were weak points which required the a’d of principle to strengthen 
them; that her pursuits were frivolous, her mind uncultivated, and 
her existence practically aimless, because her views of life were con- 
fused and indistinct, and her standard of excellence a visionary 
one. All this he saw, and seeing felt that he could remedy; and 
while he pondered on- these things Annie recalled an old wish to 
study German, and asked her lather’s permitsion to be allowed to 
do so it Mr. Arundel could find lime to give her lessons; wdiere- 
upon the general, having a great respect for any language of wdiich 
lie was personally ignorant, preferred her request to Lewis, and 
that young gentleman was graciously jileased to accede thereunto. 
Miss Livingstone of course played duenna, and but lor one circum- 
stance w’ould have performed her character with a degree of cold- 
blooded virulence worthy of the most fractious tigress that ever 
mangled “ lovers tender and true.” '1 his fortunate circumstance 
was tliat, the lessons being usually taken by way of dessert after an 
early dinner, invariably sent Minerva to sleep. In vain did she 
bring out her “ poor basket,” in wdiicli receptacle lay hid certain 
harsh underclothing tor infant paupers; in vain did she attempt 
sewing the seams of Procrustes like pinatores wdiich, solving the 
problem of the minimum of brown holland capable of containing a 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


291 


living child, were destined to compress the sturdy bodies of viDage 
urchins; the colo calathisve Minervm were unable to resist the at- 
tacks of the god Soiniius, and ere Annie Iiad stretched her pretty 
little mouth by the utterance ol a dozen double-bodied substantives, 
the lynx eyes were closed in sleep, and for all practical purposes 
Miss Livingstone forfeited every right to the fust halt of her pat- 
ronymic. 

Reader, if you are of the gender which uncourteous grammarians 
are pleased to designate the worthier, tell me, in strict confidence of 
course, did you ever read German with a pair of bright eyes turning 
from the crabbed Teutonic chanicters to look appealing'y into your 
own optics, while two coral lips, formed for pleasanter purposes 
than growling German gutturals, complain of some enigmatical 
sentence, which has not got a right meaning to it, the said eyes and 
lips being the outward symbols of a warm heart and quick intelli- 
gence ready to discern and feel the grandeur of Schiller, the Shake- 
speare of the Fatherland, or thrill to the trumpet blasts of young 
Korner’s warrior spirit or trace the more subtle thinkings of Goethe, 
that anatomist of the soul of man? I'ell me, diil you ever read 
with so desirable a fellow-student? If you have done so and can 
honestly say you did not think such schooling delightful, the sooner 
you close this book the better, for depend upon it there is little sym- 
pathy between us. Lewis at all events had no cause to be dissatis- 
fied with his pupil, who was equally docile and intelligent, and in 
a marvelously short space of time was able to read and translate 
with tolerable fluency; while the few German sentences in which her 
instructor from time to time saw^ fit to address her ai)peared like 
heathen Greek to her at each repeiition. As soon as she had sufli- 
ciently mastered the difficulties of those aggravating parts of speech, 
the compound separable verbs, and acquired moderate control over 
other equally necessary and vicious parts of the grammar, they 
commenced translating that most poetical of allegories. La Motie 
Fouque’s Undine; and Annie as Ihe}’^ read took it all at first avpied 
de la lettre^ and imagined with a degree of shuddering honor, 
which, as it was only a tale, was rather pleasant than other wise, all 
the supernatural uncomfortables Huldbrand underwent in the En- 
chanted Forest, and admired all the generous impalses of the hero- 
ine’s singular uncle-and-water Kiihleborn, who, however, she con- 
sidered would have been better adapted for family purposes if he 
had been more of a man and less of a cataract. Then Undine her- 
self, the capricious, fascinating, tricksy sprite — the thoughtful, 
loving, feeling woman — how Annie sympathized with and adored 
her. For Huldbiand she felt a species of contemptuous pity, but 
Bertalda, oh I she wuis sure no woman was ever so heartless, so utter- 
ly and wickedly selfish. And then, when Lewis unfolded to her 
his view of the allegory (every one is sure to form a particular the- 
ory of bis own as to the meaning of Undine, and to think he only 
has discovereii the author’s intention), and Annie learned that the 
tale shadowed forth the mighty truths which throng the passage to 
eternity, and, symbolizing the struggle between good and evil, show- 
ed how principalities and powers. wage throughout all time an und}^- 
ing warfare — the breast of man their battle-field — her pulses (juick- 
ened and her cheek flushed; for she felt for the first time the solemn 


LEWIS ARUJSTDEL, 




realities of existence, and saw dimly bow a sinj^le life might be a 
link between the ages and a portion, however insiirnificaid, of ibe 
mighty whole. What wonder, then, if part of the reverence, the 
awe, chastened by a deep solemn joy, with which she recognized 
the workings of Infinite Power and Infinite Love, cast their spell 
around him who had first awakened these perceptions within her? 
What wonder if, unconscious^^ cotnpaiing him with those around 
her, she grew to believe him a being of another and a higher nature, 
and so to hang on his slightest word or look, to dread his frown 
and deem his smile sufficient compensation for hours of unwonted 
study? 

The German lessons seemed to agree particularly well with Lewis 
also; tor his eye grew brighter and his step more free, the extreme 
paleness of his complexrou changed to a manly brown, a slight linee 
of color imparted a look of health to his cheek, and— unromantic 
as it may appear—his appetite increased alarmingly. Would the 
reader learn the secret of this improvement? It is soon (old. 
Living in the present, binding himself to the truth, he was happy! 
His svslem, he told himself, had succeeded; his theory had been 
tested and proved a true one; resolution had conquered, and llie in- 
sanity of love had cooled down to the reasonableness of a delightful 
friendship. 

Lewis was excessively pleased with himself at this result. At 
length, then, he had attained that complete and perfect degree of 
self-control he had so long endeavored to acquire; his feelings were 
reduced to a due submission to his will; and henceforward his hap- 
piness was in his own hands. And thus basking in this gleam of 
Bunshiue, he shut his eyes to all beyond, and dreamed that he pos- 
sessed an elixir to dissipate every cloird, and that henceforward 
storms would disappr^ar from the horizon of his destiny and become 
mere myths, existing only in memory. And these were some of the 
earliest results of the German lessons. 

About this time a small but unpleasant adventure occurred to 
poor Annie, which occasioned her a severe fright, and rendered her 
nervous and uncomfortable for several days afterward. She had 
been on an expedition to the cottage of a poor neighbor, who was 
sulleriug from illness; and as the sick woman lived beyond a walk, 
Annie had gone on horseback, attended by an old coachman who 
had lived in the family many years. Having aecomplished her 
mission, she hud ridden about a quarter of a mile on her return 
when she discovered that she had left her handkerchief behind; 
anil, directing thd servant to ride back and fetch it, she proceeded 
at a foot’s pace in a homeward direction. The road she was follow- 
ing Avound round the base of a hill tliickly covered with trees and 
underwood, the spreading branches of the oaks meeting across the 
lane, and making a species of twilight even at midday. 

As Annie Grant was passing under one of the thickest of these 
trees, a tall gaunt figure sprung from Ixdiind its knotted trunk and 
seized the bridle of her pony. Gazing in alarm at her assailant, 
Annie perceived him to be a man of unusual slature; his features 
were pale and emaciated, and an unshorn grisly benrd added to the 
feronity of their expression; his clothes, which were torn and soiled, 
hung loosely about him, while the long bony fingers which clutched 


LEWIS AKtJXDEL. 


293 


her bridle rein, the sunken cheeks and hollow sunken eyeballs, gave 
evidence that his herculean proportions had been reduced almost to 
a skeleton leanness by disease or want. Annie had, however, little 
lime to make observations, for, accosting her with an oath, tlie 
rufTian demanded her purse. Drawing it forth, she held it to him 
with a trembling hand. Fie seized it eagerly and examined its con- 
tents, his eyes gfittering as he observed the sparkle of gold. Hastily 
concealing it about his person, he next demanded her watch, vvhich 
Annie, after a hopeless glance in the direction from which she ex- 
pected the appearance of the servant, also relinquished. Having 
secured his plunder, the fellow paused, apparently reflecting whether 
by detaining her longer he could gain any further advantage; as he 
did so, the sound of a horse rapidly advancing struck his ear, and 
immediately afterward a turn in the road enabled him to perceive 
the flgure of a man on horseback, the sunshine glancing from his 
bright livery buttons. The moment this object met his view, he 
started, and shading his eyes with his liand, gazed fixedly at the ap- 
proaching horseman. Having thus satisfied liimself as to the man’s 
identit3^ he exclaimed, with an oath. “It is the old bloodhound’s 
livery, and the girl must be his daughter. Oh, what a chance 1 
have thrown away! Yes,” continued, turning fiercely upon poor 
Annie, and threatening her with his clinched fist, “ if 1 had guessed 

you were the daughter of that old Grant, j'ou should not have 

got oil so easy, 1 promise you.” He paused, as a new idea struck 
him, and his face assumed an expression of diabolical revenge. 
Placing his hand in his breast, he diew forth a pistol, cocked it, and 
muttering, “There is time yet,” leveled it at his trembling victim. 
With a faint scream, Annie dropped the reins, and clasping her 
hands in an agony of fear, murmured a petition for mercy. The 
rulfian stood for a moment irresolute, but, desperate as he was, some 
touch of humanity yet lingered in his breast, a softening recollec- 
tion came across him, and muttering, “ 1 can’t do it, she looks like 
poor Jane,” he uncocked and replaced the pistol. 

At this moment the servant, having heard Annie’s scrfani, came 
up at a gallop, and the robber, uttering a fearful imprecation, sprung 
back into the wood, and disappeared among the trees. 

It was some minutes before Annie, who was on the verge of faint- 
ing, was able to give a coherent account of the adventure which had 
befallen her; as soon, however, as she had in some degree recovered 
from the effects of her terror, she desired the servant to ride close 
behind her, and, urging her pony into a rapid canter, made the best 
of her way home. Here she found matters in a state of unusual 
bustle and confusion; the general had received information that 

Hardy the poacher had broken out of H jail, effected his escape 

unperceived, and was supposed to be in the neighborhood of Broad- 
hurst. Accordingly he was marshaling all the available males of 
his establishment, preparatory to setting out on an expedition to 
search for, and it possible to apprehend, the escaped felon. 

Great was his horror and indignation when he learned the danger 
to which his daughter had been exposed, and ascertained, from the 
description she gave of her assailant, that the man who had robbed 
her, and even threatened her life, was none other than the rutlian 
Hardy. 


294 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


The preparations wbicli lie liacl already made he now considered 
insufficient tor insuiiiig the success ot the expedition; he accord- 
ingly dispatched a mounted groom to procure the assistance of a 
couple ot policemen, and sending for Lewis, begged him to lead a 
party to search the country in one direction while he proceeded with 
another division ot the household troops in another. As the 3"oang 
tutor heard of the alarm to which Annie had been subjected, his 
cheeks flushed and his compressed lips quivered; he said little, how- 
ever, but returning to his room, placed a brace ot small pistols in 
the breast of his coat, attached spurs to the heels ol his boots, tin n, 
mounting a horse which was in readiness tor him, rode off. The 
tenants were roused, the gamekeepers summoned, the policemen 
arrived. Geneial Grant remained absent till nearly ten o’clock at 
night, and his daughter became alarmed to the last degree for his 
safety. At length he returned— their search had been unsuccessful; 
but ]\Ir. Arundel and some ot the men would l emain on the watch 
all night, and he would himself resume the pursuit next morning. 

For three days and nights Lewis never entered a house, and was 
scarcely out ot the saddle; the fourth day the police received a re- 
port from the authorities at Liverpool, stating that an individual in 
some degree corresponding to the descrii)tion of Hardy had taken 
his passage in a vessel bound to the United IStaies, and that the wdnd 
being favorable, the ship had sailed before they had been able to 
searcli her; and with this unsatislactory report the family at Broad- 
hurst were forced to content themselves. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

18 CALCULATED TO “ MURDER SLEEP FOR ALL NERVOUS YOUNG 
LADIES WHO READ IT. 

The incident related in the last chapter produced a strange and 
alarming effect upon Miss Livingstone; in fact it may be said to have 
laid the foundation ot a species of monomania which haunted her 
to the day of her deatli. From this time forth she labored under the 
delusion that a man trained from his youth uj) to rob aud murder 
bis sleeping fellows was secreted atone and the same moment under 
every bed and behind all the window -curt a ins in the house. A 
singular and alarming property belonging to this ambushed ruffian 
was the extraordinary shadow cast by his legs and feet. Miss Liv- 
ingstone was perpetually scared by discovering it in the most unlikely 
places and positions; indeed, the statistics of these shadowy phe- 
nomena tended to show that it w^as this villain’s ordinary custom to 
stand upon his wicked head. Then the noises he made were most 
strange and unearthly, and a habit he possessed oi moaning whenever 
the wind was high really exceeded anything hutnan nature could be 
expected to put up wdth. The trouble he occasioned everybody 
was inconceivable; for at least a month after Annie’s adventure the 
butler almost lived in Minerva’s bedroom, so constantly w^as he sum- 
moned to unearth this lurking traitor; and yet, althougli Miss Liv- 
ingstone was quite certain tlie monster was there, for she had seen 
the shadow of his boots with the soles upward upou the tester of 


LE^WIS ARUNDEL. 


295 


the bed, by some dreadful fatality'he alwa3'S contiived to evade the 
strictest search. Ouce Miss Livingstone thought she had got him, 
for, having summoned assistance on the strength of hearing him 
snore, she actually enjo3^ed the satisfaction of being sworn at 1)3' him 
when she looked under the bed and poked for him with a large um- 
brella; but this time he turned out to be the cat. The servants be- 
came so harassed by these repeated alarms that at length the butler 
gave bona-fide warning, while the footmen, when there was nobody 
to hear them, vehemently protested they were not hired as thief- 
catchers, and that Miss Livingstone had better set up a private po- 
liceman oi her own if she chose to he so subject to housebreakers. 
Lewis was not at all pleased with this adventure; in the first place 
it interrupted the German lessons, lor poor Annie had been sf> seri- 
ously frightened — not without cause— that it made her really ill, 
and for some da3^s she remained on a sofa in her own room. In the 
second place Lewis had been so deeply affected when he first heard 
of the danger to which she had been exposed, that for a moment a 
doubt crossed his mind whether such a degree of sentiment was ex- 
actly consistent witli that mild imposition yclept platonic friendship. 
In tne third place he had used his best endeavors to cjitcli Hardy 
once again, and had been thoroughly and con pletely baffled. Time, 
however, that wonder-working individual,- passed on, and by his 
assistance Annie’s nerves recovered their tone, and the German les- 
sons were recommenced. Miss Livingstone saw fewer v sions of re 
versed legs, and confined her researches after the concealed one to a 
good peep under the bed night and morning. The general made a 
great fuss about the whole affair, and severely reprimanded several 
individuals for permitting Hardy to escape, who never had it in 
their power to prevent his doing so. Having relieved his mind by 
this judicious exercise of authority, he applied himself to other pur- 
suits, and speedily forgot the whole transaction. 

About two months after the occurrence of the robbery, Lord Belle- 
field wrote to announce his return, and General Grant went to Lon- 
don alone in order to meet him. Before his departure, Annie, whose 
dislike to the interrupted engagement appeared to increase rather 
than to diminish, determined to make a great effort, and to acquaint 
her father with her disinclination to the proposed alliance, and to 
entreat him to take no steps which might lead to a renewal of the 
matrimonial project. The general heard her attentively, and then 
observed : 

“ 1 perfectly understand and appreciate your feelings, my dear 
Annie; they are such as, under the peculiar circumstances, become 
my daughter. Remember, my dear, that the matter is in wiser and 
more experienced hands than yours; and rest assured that nofliing 
shall be done of wdiich even your punctilious delicac3^ and true sense 
of honor can disapprove.” Then, seeing Annie was about to speak, 
he continued, ” Any further discussion is not onl3' unnecessary, but, 
as the matter now stands, would appear to imply a doubt of m3^ 
capabilit3^ of acting for you, which i should consider, to say tlie 
least, disrespectful. Aou will oblige me by witlidrawdng, m3Mlear 
Annie.” Thus saying, he rose, and opening the door with all the 
frigid courtesy of the Grandisonian school, ushered her out. And 
so poor Annie’s attempt proved a signal failure. 


296 


LEWIS AHLJSMIEL. 


On the following mornmg th(5 general left BroadlmrBl, haring 
given Annie a very unnecessary caution against riding out with 
merely a servant, ana made it his especial request that Lewis and 
Walter should accompany her by way of escort — a proceeding of 
which neither tutor nor pupil appeared to disapprove. 

General Grant was absent for more than a fortnight; and, as the 
w^ealher was unusually fine during ihewlioleof the time, Annie and 
her attendants rode out every day. Oh, those rides! what delight- 
ful expeditions were the^M By a tacit consent between Lewis and 
Annie, all allusion to the future was avoided in word or thought; 
they lived in the present, those loving hearts; they were happy, and 
.that sufficed them; and the trees appeared greener, and the flowers 
more brilliant, and the sunshine brighter than they had ever seemed 
before; all was like a fairy dream, and dream-like did it pass away. 

A letter from the general announcing his intended return was in 
Annie’s hand as, bending over a ponderous volume of crabbed char- 
acters, she awaited her German lesson. The windows of the break- 
fast room, in which she was seated, opened on to an ample lawn, 
interspersed with groups of shrubs and gay flower-beds. In cross- 
ing this lawn Walter had contrived to intercept Lewis, and inveigle 
him into a game at ball. 

Flushed by the exercise, his eyes sparkling with excitement, and 
his dark curls bangiug in wild disorder about his brow, the young 
tutor approached the window at which Annie was seated. 

Concealed by the heavy folds of the window curtain, the girl 
watched him imperceived; involimtaril}^ she contrasted his frank 
and easy bearing, his free and elastic step, and the smile, half proud, 
half playful, which parted his curved lips and sparkled iu his flash- 
ing eyes, with the cold reserve which usually characterized his de- 
meanor, and for the first time she became aware what a bright and 
noble nature had been obscuied and warped bv the false position into 
which circumstances had combined to force him. Who could blame 
her, who rather would not love her the better, and thank God that 
he has implanted such beautiful instincts in every true woman’s 
heart, if she felt that she should wish no fairer destiny than to de- 
vote her life to bring back the sunshine of his, and by her aflection 
restore the youth of soul which misfortune had wrested from him? 

Little guessing the thoughts that were passing through her mind, 
Lewis advanced toward the window, exclaiming: “Miss Grant, 1 
have a petition to urge— the day is so lovely it is quite wicked to 
remain in-doors; can 1 persuade you to use your influence with Miss 
Livingstone, to allow us to transfer the site of our German lessou to 
the bench under the lime-tree? 1 will promise to arrange a most 
seductive seat for her in the very shadiest corner.” 

“ My aunt has departed on a charitable mission,” was the reply; 
“ she received a message to say tliat an nnforl unate child whom she 
has been doctoring out of that dreafitul medicine chest of heis is 
much worse, and she has rushed off armed with pills and powders.” 

“ To give it the coup de grace, 1 suppose,” interrupted Lewis. 

Annie shook her head reprovingly, and continued: “ in the ex- 
citement of the occasion, she appears to have entirely forgotten our 
poor German lesson.” 

“ In which case the decision as to place rests with youl” resumed 


LEWIS ARTJKDEL. 


I 


297 




Lewis eap^erly; “the matter is therefore settled; you %cill come.” 
Ihe accent upon the will was intended to be one ot entreaty, but 
somehow the tone in which it was uttered partook largely of a com- 
mand, and Annie, as she obeyed, said, with a smile: “ 1 must come 
— that is clearly your meaning, Mr: Arundel; however, 1 see Waiter 
and Faust are alreadj^ en position^ and 1 must not set them an ex- 
ample of disobedience, so if you will find the books, 1 will join you 
immediately/’ 

It was, as Lewis had declared, a lovely evening; the sky was of 
that deep clear blue which indicates a continuance of fine weather; 
a soft breeze sighed through the blossoms of the lime-tree beneath 
whieh they sat. Faust lay at Annie’s feet eazing up into her face, 
as though he loved to look upon her beauty, which perliaps he did, 
for Faust was a dog of taste, and particulai in the selection of his 
favorites. Walter, stretched at his lengfli upon the turf, was idly 
turning over the pages of a volume of colored prints. Lewis opened 
the work they were translating; it was that loveliest of historical 
tiagedies, Schiller’s “ Piccolomini,’' and Annie read of Max the true, 
the noble-hearted, and thought that the world contained but one 
parallel character, and that he was beside her. They read on be- 
neath the summer sky, and, tracing the workings ot Schillei’s mas- 
ter mind, forgot all sublunary things in the absorbing interest of the 
stoiy. The scene they w^re perusing was that in which Max Pic- 
colomini describes the chilling effect produced upon him when he 
for the first time beholds Thekla surrounded by the splendors of her 
father’s court, and says (1 quote Coleridge’s beautiful translation 
tor the benefit of my w/^ German readers, and in consideration of the 
sfudlowne'^s ot my own acquaintance with the language of the 
Fatherland) : 

“ Now, once again, 1 have courage to look on you; 

To-day at noon 1 could not: 

The dazzle of the jewels that played round you 
Hid the beloved from me. 

* ***** 

This morning when 1 found you in the circle 
Of all your kindred, in your father’s arms. 

Beheld myself an alien in this circle. 

Oh! what an impulse felt 1 in that moment 
To fall upon his neck and call him father. 

But his stern eye o’erpoweied the swelling passion, 

1 dared not but be silent— and those brilliants — 

That like a crown ot stars eu wreath’d your brows — 

They scared me too — 

Oh! wherefore, wherefore should he 
At the first meeting spread, as ’tw^ere, the ban 
Of excommunication round you? — wherefore 
Dress up tlie angel tor the sacrifice. 

And cast upon the light and joyous heart 
The mourn tul burden of his station? Fitly 
IMay love woo love, but such a splendor 
Might none but monarch yehture to approach/’ 


298 


LEWIS AUUKDEL. 


As Lewis read this speech, the bright, happy look faded from his 
face, and his voice grew deep and stern; there was in the whole 
scene a strange likeness to his own position, which pained him in 
the extreme and brought back all his most bitter feelings. En- 
grossing as Wiis this idea when once aroused, he could not but ob- 
serve the unusual degree of taste and energy which Annie, who ap- 
peared carried away by the interest of tlie drama, infused into her 
reading, and the tones of her sweet voice did ample justice to the 
triendl}^ confiding tenderness with which Thekla endeavors to con- 
sole her lover. After her appeal to the Countess Tertsky — 

“ lie’s not in spirits, wherefore is he not? 

He had quite another nature on the journey, 

So calm, so bright, so joyous eloquent;” 

she turned to Max, saying: 

“ It was my wish to see you always so, 

And never otherwise.” 

Annie spoke the last words so earnestly that Lewis involuntarily 
glanced at her, and their eyes met. It was one of those moments 
which occur twice or thrice in a life-time, when heart reads heart as 
an open book, and sympathetic thought reveals itself unaided by 
that babbling interpreter, the tongue. Through weary years of sor- 
row and separation that look w’as unforgotten by either of them; 
and when Annie bent her eyes on the ground with a slight blush, 
which told that the large amount ot 'womanly tenderness that she 
fain would show was not unmingled with a portion of womanly love 
which she would as tain conceal, and Lewis dared not trust himself 
to speak, lest the burning thoughts which crowded on his brain 
should force themselves an utterance, neither ot them was soiry to 
perceive the figure of Aunt Martha rustling crisply through the 
stillness, as, burdened with boluses, Minerva appeared before them, 
to give a triumphant account of her i^iclory over Tommy Cnulle’s 
catarrhal aflection, of which ailment she promised Annie a rever- 
sion, for her imprudence in sitting out of doors without a bonnet. 
When Lewis retired to his room that night, he sat down to think 
over in solitude the occurrences of the day. Had he been deceiving 
himself, then? w^as his iinhapp}^ attachment still unsubdued? nay, 
had it not strengthened, under the delusive garb ot frieudship? had 
not Annje’s society become necessary to his happiness? Again — 
and as this idea for the first time occurred to him, the strong man 
trembled like a child from the violence of his emotion-had he not 
more than this to answ^er for? Selfishly engrossed by his own feel- 
ings, madly relying on his own strength of will, which he now per- 
ceived he had but too good reason to mistrust, he had never contem- 
plated the effect his behavior might produce upon a warm-hearted 
and imaginative girl. Lewis w'as no coxcomb, but he had read 
that in Annie’s manner wdiich convinced him that she w'as by no 
means inditterent to him. 7 rue, it miglit be only friendship on her 
part —the natural impulse of a w'oman’s heart to pity and console 
one who she perceived to need such loving kindness— and with this 
foilorn hope Lewis was fain to content himself. Then he began to 


LEWIS ABUls'DEL. 


299 


form wise resolutions tor the future: he would avoid her society — 
the German lessons should be strictly confined to business, and grad- 
ually discontinued; an?! even a vague notion dimly presented itself 
of a time— say a year llience— when Walter might be intrusted to 
otlier hands, and he should be able to extricate himself from a situ- 
at on so fraught wdth danger. And liaving thus regarded the mat- 
ter by the light of principle and duty, feeling began to assert its 
claims, and he cursed his bitter fortune, which forced him to avoid 
one whom he would have braved death itself to win. He sat fDon- 
dering these things deep into the night; the sound of the clock over 
the stables striking two at length aroused him from his reverie, and 
he was about to undress when a slight growl from Faust, who al- 
ways slept on a mat in Lewis’s dressing-room, attracted his atten- 
tion, and, as he paused to listen, a low whistle, which seemed to 
irroceed from the shrubs under his window, caught his ear. Closing 
the door of tlie dressing-room, to prevent Faust from triving any 
alarm, he walked lightly to the window, which, according to his 
usual custom, he left open all night, and silently withdrawing the 
curtain looked out. As he did so a window on the ground-floor 
was cautiously opened, and the wdiislle repeated. After a moment’s 
reflection, he became convinced that the room from which the sig- 
nal whistle had been replied to was occupied by the new butler, who 
had replaced the individual harassed into the desperate step of re- 
signing by Minerva’s incessant crusades against the under-the-bed 
one. At the sound of the signal wdiistle, the figures of four men 
appeared from the shrubs among which they had been hidden, and 
noiselessly approached the window. The candle wiiicli Lewis liad 
brought upstairs with him had burned out; and although his win- 
dow was open, tlie curtains were drawn across it; he was therefore 
able, himself unperceived, to see and iiear all that was going on. 
As the burglars, for such he did not doubt they were, drew near, 
the following conversation was carried on in a low whisper between 
their leader, a man of unusual stature, and Simmonds the butler. 

“ You are late; the plate has been packed and ready these last 
two hours.” 

There was a light in the d d tutor’s room till half an hour 

ago,” was the reply; ‘‘ and we thought he might hear us and give 
the alarm if we (lid not wait till he was in bed.” 

” It would not liave much signified it he had, when you were 
once in,” leturned Simmonds; ” the grooms don’t sleep in the house; 
the valet is in London; so there’s only the tutor, the footman, and 
the idiot boy, besides women.” 

‘‘ Where is the old man?” inquired the other. 

“Not returned,” was the answer. 

A brutal curse was the rejoinder, and the robber continued: ” The 
girl is safe?” 

” Yes„” 

” And the tutor?” 

” Yes. What do jmu want with them?” 

‘‘ To knock out his d— d brains, and take her with us,” was the 
alarming reply. Simmonds appeared to remonstrate, tor the rob- 
ber replied, in a louder tone than he had yet used: 


300 


LEWIS AUUKEEL. 

“1 tell you, yes! Old Grant sball know what it is to lose a 
daughter, as wej'l as other people.” 

Afraid lest the loudness of his voice should give the alarm, the 
other exclaimed in an anxious whisper: 

“ Hush! come in;” and, one after the other, the four men entered 
by the open window. 


CHAPTER XLV. 

'CONTAINS A “midnight STRUGGLE,” GARNISHED WITH A DUE 
AMOUNT OF BLOODSHED AND OTHER NECESSARY HORRORS. 

Lewis, having overheard the conversation detailed in the preced- 
ing chapter, perceived himself to be placed in a position alike dan- 
gerous and difficult, in the spokesman and leader of the party he 
had recognized (as the reader has also probably done) his old antag- 
onist, Hardy the poacher. The matter then stood thus: foui ruffians 
(one of whom, burning with the desire of revenge tor wrongs real 
and supposed, possessed strength and resolution equal to his ani- 
mosity) were already in possession of the lower part of the house, 
their avowed objects being robbery, murder and abduction: the but- 
ler, faithless to his trust, was clearly an accomplice; Hardy, fight- 
ing as it were, with a halter round his neck, was not likely to stick 
at trifles, and Lewis foresaw that the conflict, once begun, would be 
for life or death, and on its successful issue depended Annie’s res- 
cue from a fate worse than death. His only ally was the footman; 
and whethei this lad’s courage would desert him when he discovered 
the odds against which he had to contend was a point more than 
doubtful. However, there was no time to deliberate; Lewis felt that 
he must act, and summoning all the energies of his nature to meet so 
fearful an emergency, he prepared to sell his life as dearly as possi- 
ble. On attempting to unlock his pistol-case, the key turned with 
difficulty, and it was not without some trouble and delay that he 
was enabled to open it. As he did so it occurred to him that his 
justols, which he kept loaded, might have been tampered with. It 
was fortunate that he thought of ascertaining this, tor on inserting 
the ramrod, he found the bullets had been withurawm from both 
barrels. (Jarefully reloading them, he placed the pistols in a breast- 
pocket ready for use, and taking down from a nail on which it 
hung, a cavalr}^ saber which had belonged to Gaptain Arundel, he 
unsheathed it, and grasping it firmly with his right hand, he turned 
to leave the room, with the design of arousing the footman. As he 
did so a faint tap was heard, and on opening the door the figure of 
Annie Grant, pale and trembling, wrapped in a dressing-gown and 
shawl, appeared before him, while her French souhrette, in an 
agony of fear, was leaning against the wall, listening (with eyes 
that appeared leady to start out of her head with fright) for 
every sound from below. As Lewis advanced, Annie perceived 
the saber, and pointing toward it, she exclaimed, in an agitated 
whisper: 

“Oil! you have heard Ihemthen! What will become of us?” 
Lewis took her trembling hand in his. 

“ Calm yourself!” he said, in the same low tone, “ I will deiend 
you, and, if needs be, die for you.” 


LEWIS AKUNHKL. 


301 


His words, spoken slowly and earnestly, appeared to act like a 
charm upon her. She became at once composed, and looking up in 
his face with an expression of child-like trust, inquired: 

“ And what shall 1 do?'’ 

“ Go back to your apartment and pray for my success; God is 
merciful and will not turn a deaf ear to such angel pleadings,” was 
the solemn reply. 

Annie gazed earnestly at him, and reading in the stern resolution 
of his features the imminence of their danger, was turning away 
with a sickening feeling of despair at her heart when Lewis again 
addressed her. 

“ 1 am going to awaken the man-eervant,” he said; ” the butler 
is an accomplice of these scoundrels, and has admitted them. They 
can not, however, molest you witliout ascending the stairs; and as 
they do that 1 shall encounter them: the result is in the hands of 
God.” 

He was about to leave her, but there was a speechless misery in 
her face, as she gazed upon him, which he could not resist. In au 
instant he was by her side. 

” Dear Annie,” he said, and his deep tones faltered from tlie in- 
tensity of his emotion— wm the first time he had ever called Joer hy 
her Christian name — ” dear Annie, do not look at me thus sorrotv- 
liilly; it is true, we are in peril; but i have ere now braved greater 
danger than this succesfully, and — should I fall, life has few charms 
for me -to die for you — ” 

At this moment the sound of a man’s voice in anger was heard 
from the lower part of the house, and starting forward with a 
scarcely suppressed cry of terror, the French girl seized Lewis’s 
arm; while pointing in the direction of the footman’s room, she ex- 
claimed: 

” Allez, alleZy cherehez vite du secours, nous allons etre assassines 
tons.'* 

Lewis placed his finger on his lips in token of silence, and listened 
a moment as the voices below were again audible and then died 
away. 

” They are quarreling over their booty,” he said, ” and are too 
well occupied to think of us at present.” 

He then led Annie to the door of her room, urged her to fasten it 
on the inside, and, pressing her hand warmly, left her. After one 
or two futile attempts, he (liscovered the man-servant’s apartment; 
the door was unfastened and he ])ushed it open, when the loud 
regular breathing that met his ear proved that the person of whom he 
was in search was as yet undisturbed. Approaching the bed, Lewis 
paused for a moment, and shading ihe light with his hand, gazed 
upon the face of the sleeper. He was scarcely beyond the age of 
boyhood, and his features presented more delicacy ot form than is 
usually to be met with in the class to which he belonged. He was 
sleeping as quietly as a child; while Lewis watched him, he mur- 
mured some inarticulate sounds, and a smile pla3^ed about In's mouth. 
As Lewis stooped to wake him, he could not but mentally contrast 
the calm sleep from which he was arousing him with the probable 
scene of violence and danger in which he would so soon be engaged. 


302 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


It was no time for such reflections, however, and laying his hand 
on the laii’s shoulder, he said: 

“ Robert, you are wanted, rouse up!’* 

Startled by the apparition of afifrure bending over him, the young 
man sprung up, exclaiming: 

“ What’s the matter? who is it?” then recognizing Lewis, he con- 
tinned: ” Mr. Arundel! is anybody ill, sir?” 

“Hush!” was the reply; “get up and put on some clothes as 
quickly as possible; there are thieves in the house. 1 will wait at 
the top of the stairs till you join me, ‘but make no'noise, or you may 
bring them upon us before we are prepared tor them.” 

So saying, he quitted the room. In less time than he had im- 
agined it poKSsible the young servant joined him. 

“ Have you roused "Mr. Siuimonds?” w’as his first query. 

“ The butler has proved unworthy of the trust reposed in him,” 
returned Lewis; “ he has admitted these men into the house, and 
they are now in his pantr}’’, preparing to carry oft the plate.” 

As he spoke, his companion’s color rose, and with hashing eyes 
he exclaimed: “Let us go down and prevent them; there’s plate 
worth £o00 under his caie.” 

Lewis held the lamp so that it shed its liffht upon the young man’s 
face and figure. He was a tall, well-grown youth, and his broad 
shoulders and muscular arms gave promise of strength; his eye w^as 
keen and bright and an expression of honest indignation imparted 
firmness to his mouth. Lewis felt that he might be relied on, and 
determined to trust him accordingly. 

“ They have worse designs than merely s’^^ealing the plate,” he 
said; “ the^M'ntend to carry oft Miss Grant, and murder me. Chance 
enabled me to overhear their plan; 1 mean, therefore, to wait at the 
top of the stairs, and use any means to prevent their ascending 
them; will you stand by me?” 

“Ay, that 1 will; a man can die but once,” was the spirited 
reply. 

Lewu's grasped his hand and shook it warmly. 

“ You are a brave fellow\” he said, “ and if we succeed in beat- 
ing ofT these scoundrels, it shall not be my fault if your fortune is 
not made. There is a carbine hanging in the general’s bedroom, is 
there not?” 

Receiving an answer in the a.'firmative, Lewis continued: “ Fetch 
it then, and the sword with it, if you think you can use it.” 

As Robert departed on this mission, Lewis, surprised at the delay 
on the part of Hardy and his associates, glided lightly down the 
staircase to reconnoifer their proceedings. The lower part of the 
liouse was, of course, in total darkness; but as he ‘approached the 
butler’s pantry a bright stream of light issued fi-om a crack in the 
door, wdiile the tramp of nailed shoes on the stone flooring inside, 
together with an occasional muttered word or oath from one of the 
party, proved that they w^ei’e busily engaged in some toilsome occu- 
pation, which Lewis rightly conjectured to be conveying the plate 
to a cart outside. Returning as cautiously as he had advanced, Lewis 
rejoined his companion, whom he found waiting for him at the top 
of the stairs, carbine in hand. Having .^.scertained that the charge 
had been removed from this also, he reloaded it with some of the 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


303 


slu^s miendecl for his pistols, and placing the lamp so that it cast 
its light down the staircase, leaving the spot where they stood in 
shade, he handed one pistol to Robert, reserving the other for his own 
use in any emergency which might occur; and thus prepared, they 
waited the approach of the robbers. Their patience was not in this 
instance destined to be severely taxed, tor scarcely had they taken 
their stations, when the creaking of a door cautiously opened and 
the tread of muffled footsteps announced that the crisis was at 
hand; and in another moment Hardy and his associates were seen 
stealthily advancing toward the toot of the stairs. As they per- 
ceived the light of Lewis’s lamp, they paused, and a whispered con- 
sultation took place. At this moment the rays fell strongly ut)on 
the upper part of the poacher’s figure, and Lewis, leveling his car- 
bine, could have shot him through the heart. It was a strong 
temptation. Hardy once dead, Lewis had little fear of being able 
to overcome or intimidate the others. He knew that it was life lor 
life, and that by all laws, human and divine, the act would be a 
justified one; but he could not bring himself to slay a fellow-creat- 
ure in cold blood. Besides, although, since his unmanly attack on 
Annie, Lewis had felt in the highest degree irritated against the 
poacher, he compassionated him for the loss of his daughter, and 
could not entirely divest himself of a species of admiration for his 
strength and daring; so, though he still held the carbine directed 
toward the group, he did not pull the trigger; and thus by a strange 
turn of fate, Lewis spared Hardy’s life, as Hardy had, on a former 
occasion, spared his, when the motion of a finger would have sent 
him to his long account. At this moment the butler joined the 
part3% and Lewis caught the words: “ They have fiie armsi” 

“ Kever fear,” was the reply, in the tones of Sirnmonds’s voice, 
” they may bark, but they won’t bite; I’ve taken care of that.” 

” Come on, then,” exclaimed Hardy impetuously ; ” rush at them 
all together,” and arasping a bludgeon with one hand, while in the 
other he held a cocked pistol, he dashed upstairs, followed by the 
rest. Lewis waited till they had passed a turn in the staiicase, and 
then, aiming low, in order if possible to stop their advance without 
destroying life, he fired. Siinmonds, who was one of the foremost, 
immediately fell, and losing his balance, rolled down several steps; 
one of the others paused iu his career, and, from his limping gait, 
w'as evidently wounded; but Hardy and two more contiuued their 
course uninjured. The smoke (*f the discharge for a moment con- 
cealed Lewis's figure; as it cleared away. Hardy leveled his pistol 
at him, and fired. The bullet whistled by Lewis’s ear, and passing 
within an inch of his right temple, lodged in the wall behind him; 
while, following up his inellectual shot, the robber rushed upon 
him. Lewis, however, hail too keen a recollection of his antagonist’s 
matchless strength to risk tlie chance of allowing liim to close with 
him, and springing back he struck him, quick as light uiiig, two 
blows with the saber— the first on his arm, which he raised to pro- 
t«ict his head; the second and most severe one on the shoulder, near 
the neck; this last blow staggered him, and reeling dizzily he 
grasped the baluster for support, the blood trickling from the 
wound in his shoulder. In the meantime the two others, one of 
them having felled the young footman to the ground by a back- 


304 


LEWIS ARUi^DEL. 


handed stroke with a bludgeon, attacked Lewis simultaneously. 
Having parried one or two blows with his saber, Lewis made a des- 
perate .cut at the head of the man with the bludgeon. The fellow 
raised his staff to ward oft the stroke, and the blow' fell upon the 
oak sapling, which it severed like a reed; but unfortunately the 
shock was too great, and the sword snapped near the hilt. Seeing 
that he was thus left defenseless, and might probably be over- 
powered, as both his assailants were strong, square-built fellows, 
Lewis had no resouice but to draw his pistol; and, as before, en- 
deavoring to aim so as to disable without destroying life, he fired, 
and tlie man nearest to him fell. Plis comrade immediately threw 
himself upon the young tutor, and a fierce struggle ensued. In 
poiiit of strength, the combatants were very equally matched; but 
fortunately for the result, Lewis was the most active, and, by a 
sudden wrench disengaging himself from his antagonist’s grasp, he 
struck him a tremendous blow with his clinched fist on the side of 
the head, which sent him down with the force of a battering-ram. 
As he did so a giant arm was thrown round his w^aist, a knife 
gleamed at his throat, and in a hoarse, broken voice, the savage 
terocity of which had something appalling in its tones. Hardy ex- 
cl limed: 

“ I’ve owed you something for a long time, young feller; and 
now I've got a chance Ibn going to pay you.” 

Both his hands being occupied, he, with the fury of some beast 
of prey, seized Lewis’s hair with his teeth, and endeavore 1 to draw 
his head back, in order to cut his throat; but, by dint of struggling, 
Lewis had contrived to get his right arm free, and grasping the 
wrist of the hand which held the weapon, he was enabled, as long 
as his strength might hold out, to prevent the ruSau from execut- 
ing liis murderous purpose. Hardy made one or two efforts to shake 
off the grasp which thus fettered him; but ids muscular power was 
30 much impaired by the saber cut on the arm that he was unable 
to accomplish his design Accordingly, trusting to his great 
strength, and thinking that l^ewis would become exhausted by his 
attempts to free himself, Hardy determined to wait, rather than run 
the lisk ct affording his victim a chance of escape by removing the 
arm which encircled him. While affairs were in this position 
Robert, having recovered the stunning effects of the blow which 
had telled him, regained his feet, and was advancing to Lewis’s 
assistance, when the lobber who bad been slightly wounded in the 
leg as he was ascending the stairs, and had since remained a passive 
spectator of the struggle, interposed, and rousing through the med- 
ium of a kick in the ribs the fellow vvhom Lewis had knocked 
dowm, closed w'iih the young seivant, and attempted to wrench the 
pistol (which went off in the scuffle, without injuring any one) from 
his grasp, while his accomplice, gatheiing himself slowly from the 
floor, prepared to assist him. In the meantime the struggle between 
Lewis and Hardy appeared likely to terminate in favor of the young 
tutor, for the exertions made by the poacher to retain his captive 
caused the blood to flow rapidly from his wounds, and a sensation 
of faintness stole over him, which threatened mcnientarily to inca- 
pacitate him. As he became aware of this fact his fury and disap- 
pointment knew no bounds; and, collecting his powers for one final 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


305 


eflort, he released Lewis’s wrist, and transferring his grasp to his 
coat- collar, suddenly flung his whole weight upon him and bore 
him heavily to the ground; then raising himself, and planting his 
knee on Lewis's chest, he stretched out his hand to pick up the 
knife, which he had dropped in this last attack. Had he made the 
attempt one minute sooner it would have been successful, and 
Lewis would, indeed, have laid down his life for her he loved; but 
his time was not yet come; as the poacher leaned over to reach the 
knife a dizzy faintness overpowered him, his .brain reeled; a slight 
eflort on Lewis's part was sufflcient to dislodge him, and uttering a 
hollow groan he rolled over on his back and lay motionless, his 
deep labored breathing alone testifying that he was still alive. 
Hastily springing from the ground Lewds on regaining his feet 
turned to assist his companion, who was still manfully battling with 
his two assailants; as he did so the sound of feet became audible, 
and the gardener and three of the other out-door servants, aroused 
by the report of fire-arms, rushed in, having effected their entrance 
by the open window of the pantry. Their arrival ended the affair. 
The burglar who was unin.iured, finding the door of Lewis’s bed- 
room open, look refuge there, leaped from the window, alighted on 
some shrubs, which broke his fall, and, the darkness favoring him, 
effected his escape. The other four, who were all wounded more 
or less seriously, were secured. 

A surgeon was immediately sent for. fie examined Hardy, who 
remained in a state of unconsciousness, first. He pronounced the 
cut ill the arm of little consequence, but the wound in the neck had 
divided several important vessels, and he considered it highly dan- 
gerous. The burglar at whom Lewis had discharged his pistol was 
severely wounded in the hip, but the surgeon did not apprehend 
any serious consequences. Simmonds, the butler, proved to have 
been hit in the knee by a slug from the carbine, an injury which 
would probably lame him for life. The remaining member of the 
gang had come off more easily, a shot having passed through the 
fleshy part of the leg. Robert, tlie servant displayed a broken 
head, and Lewis, besides being severely bruised, had, in the last 
struggle with Hardy, received a wound in the left wrist from the 
point of the rufilan’s knife. As soon as. by the ap[»lication of 
proper lestoratives, Hardy became sufficiently recovered to bear re- 
moval, a carriage was sent for, and the captured burglars were con- 
veyed to the nearest town; the two most severely injured W'ere taken 
to the hospital, and the other pair securely lodged in the county 
jail. 

On Annie’s expressions of gratitude to tier preserver, or on the 
feelings with which Lewis heard her lips pronounce his praises, w'e 
will not dwell; neither will we expatiate on the view Miss Living- 
stone (who appeared in a tremendous night-cap of cast-iron, wdiite- 
washed, and a dressing gown of Portland stone) was pleased to take 
of the affair, in wfiiich she recognized a vindication of tbe reality of 
the individual who was always under the beds and behind the cur- 
tains; wfiio, for the future, she declared to have been Hardy, pio- 
fessing herself able to swear to the expression of his boots in any 
court of justice throughout the United Kingdom. 

Poor Lewis, bruised aud wearied, flung himself on a sofa in his 


30G 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


dressing-room, to try if he could obtain a few hours’ sleep, ere fresh 
cares and duties should devolve upon him; but sleep demands a 

calm frame of mind, and in his spirit there was no peace. One 

thought haunted him — in his brief and agitated iuierview with 
Annie, had he betrayed himself? Sometimes, as he recalled the 
words he had spoken and the feelings which had, as it were, forced 
them from him, he felt that he must have done so; and then he re- 
gretted that Hardy’s bullet had flown wide of its mark, and wished 
that he were lying there a senseless corpse, rather than a living 
man endowed with a power to feel and therefore to suffer. 

Then he bethought him how alarmed and confused Annie had 

appeared; and he conceived that she might have been too 
thoroughly preoccupied and self-engrossed to have marked his 
words or to have attributed to them any meaning save friendly in- 
terest. One thing was only too clear — of whatever nature might be 
Annie’s feelings toward him, his affection for her was love — deep, 
fervent, earnest love — a passion which he could neither banish nor 
control. How then should he act? flight had now become the idea 
that most readily occurred to him; again, the possibility of leaving 
Walter presented itself to his mind, and this time not as a mere re- 
mote contingency, but as a step which he might at any moment be 
called upon to take, if he could not recover his self-control so en- 
tirely as to endure Annie’s presence; nay, to receive marks of her 
giatitude and esteem, or even, on occasion, to share her confidence 
without betraying his feelings. Then in his self- tormenting he 
caught at the expression which he had half thought, half uttered; 
to endure her presence — to endure that which he idolized, the pres- 
ence ot one for whom he would sacrifice friends, family, the love of 
adventure, his ambitious hopes, nay, as he had but now proved, 
life itself. A wild idea crossed his mind; if love were thus all- 
powerful with him, a strong-minded, determined man, might it not 
be equally so with her, a young, impulsive girl, whose very nature 
was an embodiment of tenderness? might she not secretly pine to 
sacrifice rank, station, riches, for the sake of love and him? Sacri- 
fice — ay, rather rejoice to cast off such trammels! Should he strive 
to ascertain this? Should he tell her how he loved her with a pas- 
sion that was undermining the secret springs of his very existence, 
and implore her to flv with him to some far western land, where the 
false distinctions of society were undreamed ot, and the brave, true- 
hearted man was lord, not of his servile fellows, but of the creation 
which God had destined him to rule? "iThe picture, seen by the 
false glare of his heated imagination, appeared a bright one; the light 
stood out boldly, and the shadows remained unheeded, till the first 
gleam of returning reason brought them forward, and he shuddered 
to think that ho could have entertained for a moment a project so 
complete y nt variance with every principle ot honor and of duty. 
Thus feverish alike in mind and body he tossed restlessly on his 
couch, till at length, thoroughly exhausted, he fell into a deep sleep, 
and dreamed bright dreams of happy love, to make the stern reality 
appear yet darker and more drear on waking. 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


307 


CHAPTER XLVL 

IN WHICH THE READER DIVERGES INTO A NEW BRANCH OF “ THE 
RAILROAD OP LIFE/’ IN A THIRD CLASS CAHRIAGE, 

On his return to Broadliurst General Grant expressed Lis most 
unqualified admiration ot the gallant defense of his house, jjroperty, 
and daughter (we quote his own ‘'table of precedence”) by Lewis 
and the man-servant. On the former he bestowed a sword (pre- 
sented to him in by gone days by some Indian potentate) to replac(3 
the weapon broken in the struirgle, together with a handsomely 
bound copy of the Wellington Dispatches; the latter he rewarded 
by promotion to the post of butler, mce Simmonds (in a fair way to 
be) transported, together with a douceur of twenty pounds; which 
piece ot good fortune so elated the youthful Robert that he publicly 
declared he should like to nave his head broken every night, and 
wished the house might be robbed regularly twice a week until 
further orders. The wounded men recovered rapidl}^ with the ex 
ception of Hardy, whose case assumed a very alarming character 
owing to the slate of his constitution, impaired by a course ot in 
temperance, to which, since his escape from prison, he had given 
himself over; erysipelas supervened, and in a few daj^s his life was 
despaired of. On receiving this intelligence Lewis rode over to 

H , and calling at the hospital, requested to be allowed to see the 

man whose life he had been the involuntary instrument of shorten 
ing. The permission was readily accorded, and he was conducted 
along several passages to the room, or rather cell, for it was little 
else, in which, tor the purpose of security as well as to separate him 
fiom the other inmates of the establishment, the burglar had been 
placed. As soon as Lewis had entered the door was closed and 
fastened on the outside. Noiselessly approaching the truckle bed on 
which Hardy lay the young tutor paused as his glance fell upon the 
prostrate figure of his former antagonist. Stretched at full length 
upon the couch, his arm and shoulder swathed in bandages, and his 
muscular throat and broad hairv chest partially uncovered, he looked 
even more gigantic than when in an erect posture; his face was pale 
as death, and an unnatural darkness beneath the skin betokened, to 
an}^ one accustomed to such appearances, the speedy approach of the 
destroyer, while a small hectic spot of color on the center of each 
cheek gave evidence of the inward fever which was consuming him. 
When Lewis approached the bed his eyes were closed, and his deep 
breathing at first led to the belief that he was asleep; that this was 
not the case, however, soon became apparent. Opening his eyes, he 
accidentally encountered those uf Lewis fixed upon him with an ex- 
pression of mingled pity and remorse; as their glances met. Hardy 
gave a start of surprise, and gazed at him with ascowd which proved 
that his feeling ot animosity against Lewis were still unabated, 
while a puzzled look evinced that his mental powers were so much 
weakened that he doubted whether the figure he beheld was real or 
a creation of his morbid fancy. Advancing to the bedside, Lewis 


308 


LEWIS ABTJXLEL 


broke tbe silence by inquiring whether he suftercd much pain. As 
lie began to speak the contused look disappeared from the sick 
man’s countenance, and glaring at him with an expression of im^ 
potent rage, he exclaimed, in a low, hoarse voice 

“ So you’re come to look upon your handy work, have you? 1 
hope you like it!” 

” i am come to tell you that 1 am sorry the blows 1 struck you in 
self defense should have produced such disastrous consequences, 
and to ask youi forgiveness, in case tbe means employed for your 
restoration to health should prove ineffectual,” replied Lewis. 

“Restore my health!” r jpeated Hardy bitterly; “do you mean 
that you expect these doctors can cure me? Do you think these 
wounds, that burn like hell-fire, can be healed by their plasters and 
bandages? 1 tell you, no! You have done your work effectually 
this time, and 1 am a dying man. You want me to forgive j^ou, do 
3 "ou? If my curse could wither you where you stand, I would, and 
do curse you! If priest’s tales be true, and there be a heaven and a 
hell, and by forgiving you i could reach heaven, 1 still would curse 
you, in the hope that by so doing 1 might drag you down to hell 
with me.” 

The vehemence with which he uttered this malediction complete- 
ly exhausted him; and falling back on the pillow, he lay with closed 
eyes, his labored breathing affording the only proof thai he was still 
alive. Thros^ing himself upon a chair by the bedside, Lewis sat 
wrapped in painful thought. The reflection that hatred to him for 
acts which circumstances had forced him to commit might cause 
the unhappy being before him to die impenitent, and that he might 
thus be instrumental to the destruction both of his body and soul, 
was distressing to him in the extreme; and yet how to bring him to 
a better frame of mind was not easy to decide. At length, follow- 
ing out his own train of thoughts, he asked abruptly: 

“ Hardy, v;hy do you hate me so bitterly?” 

Thus accosted, the poacher unclosed his eyes, and fixed them 
with a piercing glance upon the face of his questioner, as though 
he would read his very soul. Apparently disappointed in his ob 
ject — for Lewis met his gaze with the calm self-possession of con- 
scious rectitude — he answered surlily: 

“ Why do you come here to torment me with foolish questions? 
It is enough that 1 hate you now; 1 shall hate you dying, and i 
shall hate you after death, if there is an hereafter. Now go. If 
by staying here you think to persuade or entrap me into saying 1 
forgive you, you only w^aste your time.” 

“ Listen to me. Hardy/’ returned Lewis, speaking calmly and 
impjressively. “ You are, as you truly say, a dying man. In this 
life we shall probably never meet again, the reality of a future life 
you appear to doubt; 1 believe in it, and 1 believe that 5 mur con 
uition there may be affected by your dying with such feelings in 
jmur heart as you have now expressed. It is, therefore, worth 
while to discuss this matter, and see whether you have such just 
cause to hate me as you imagine/' 

As Hardy made no reply, Lewis continued: “It is true that, on 
a former occasion, t secured your capture when, perhaps, 1 was 
stepping beyond my regular path of d*uty to do sc* but in this last 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 309 

afiair 1 merely acted in self-defense, as 1 overheard from my open 
window your scheme tor my destruction, l^ou discharged a pistol 
at me ere 1 attacked you; had the ball gone halt an inch more to 
tile riii:ht, 1 should have been a dead man. Whatever may be 3 ^our 
faults, you are brave, and that quality alone should prevent your 
bearing malice against one who met you in fair open fight. It was 
a game for life and death and it is unjust to hate me for winning 
it.’^ 

“Boy, you will madden me,^* exclaimed Hardy passionately, 
raising hiraselt on his elbow as he spoke, though the pain the action 
caused him forced a groan from his compressed lips. “ Do you 
suppose 1 care for your paltry blows? If they had not finished me, 
brandy or my own hand would soon have done so, for life has long 
been a curse to me, and had become unbearable since — may the 
torments 1 shall soon endure, if there be a hell, fall upon you for it! 
since you and the titled scoundrel, your friend, stole my daughter 
from me.“ • 

“ 1!’' exclaimed Lewis, in astonishment; “ do you imagine me to 
have had any share in that wickedness? Why, man, I never saw 
your daughter save on two occasions; and on the second of these 1 
. warned her—unfortunately without effect— against the designs of 
the villain who betrayed her.’' 

As he spoke, Hardy gazed eagerly at him, and when he ceased 
exclaimed: 

“ Tell me, when and where was it that you did this?” 

“ It was on the morning al ter the electioneering ball at Broad- 
hurst. I was shooting with the gamekeeper, met your daughter 
by accident in the grass-field by the large plantation, and witnessing 
her parting with Lord Bellefiekl, i took the opportunity ot telling 
hei ids true name and character, and warning her against his proh- 
Jible designs. But, unluckily, she had witnessed a disagreement 
between us on the previous evening, and, supposing me to be 
actuated by malicious motives, discredited my assertion.” 

“ \ou are not deceiving me?” questioned Hardy eagerly. “ You 
could not, dare not do so now!” 

“You do not know me, or you would not doubt my word. 1 
have spoken the sinq^le truth,” returned Lewis coldly. 

“ Here,” continued Hardy, producing a small Bible from beneath 
his pillow: “ you tell me you believe in this book which the chap 
lain left with me. Will you swear upon it that you are not trying 
to deceive me?” 

Lewis raised the book reverently to his lips, and kissing it took 
the required oath. Hardy watched him with a scrutiniziug gaze, 
and when he had concluded, held out his hand, saying 

“ 1 have wu’onged you deeply, Mr. Arundel, and must ask — what 
1 never thought again to ask at the hand of man — 3 ^our forgiveness. 

1 have sought your life, sir, as the wild beast seeks his prey; and 
chance on one occasion and your own courage and address on others 
have alone preserved it.” ' . 

He then went on to relate how, his suspicions having fleen excited 
by hints from the neighbors, he had learned that his daughter was 
in the habit of meeting some gentleman by stealth; how he watched 
for him constantly without success till the day after the great party 


310 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


at Broadlmrst, when, l^ing concealed in the larch plantation, he 
had been attracted by the sound ot voices, and creeping benealli the 
underwood had witnessed, though not near enough to overhear 
v/hat passed, the interview between Lewis and his daughter, when 
he naturall}’^ concluded the young tutor to be the individual against 
whom he had been cautioned, tie then went on to relate that the 
opportune arrival of the gamekeeper had alone prevented him troin 
shooting the supposed libertine, but that he had determined on his 
destruction, and that his capture by Lewis and the general had 
alone hindered him from executing his design, it w\as not till after 

his escape from II jail that he first heard Lord Belletield’s name 

coupled with that ot his daughter, which information complicated 
Iheadair; but still feeling convinced that Lewis was guilt}^ either 
as principal or accessory, he joined in the scheme tor robbing liroad- 
liurst, in order to be revenged on the jmung tutor as well as ou 
General Graut, against whom he had long nourished feelings of 
animosity on account ot his.poaching persecutions. 

His penitence for the wrong he had done him by his unjust sus- 
picions was so sincere and spontaneous that Lewis imagined he 
lecognized amid the ruin traces of a naturally generous disposition, 
ihat“seed of the soul whicli remains in almost every nature, 
liowever the rank growth ot evil passions uncontrolled may have 
checked its development. Taking advantage of an expression ot 
which Hardy made use, that “ he thanked God he liad not added 
o his other sins the murder ot one who had sought to befriend his 
child,” bis companion observed: 

” You say you tliauk God for preserving yon from an additional 
crime; now, does not the tact ot your iti voluntarily making use of 
that form of speech, tend to convince you that the beliet in a God 
and a future state is natural to the mind ot man?” 

Hardy seemed struck by the force ot the remark, and Lewis pur- 
suing the subject, had the satisfaction of perceiving that he had 
excited the wounded man’s interest, and ere be quitted him, he oh 
lainecl his promise to listen to the exhortations ot the chaplain, 
wliose advances he had before angrily repulsed. Pleased with the 
result of his visit. Lewis, on his way home, called upon the clergy- 
man who fulfilled the duties of chaplain to the hospital, und men- 
tioning to him Hardy’s improved frame of mind, begged him to see 
him again as soon as possible, to which request the chaplain will- 
ingly acceded. 

Three days after this interview, Lewis received a note from the 
chaplain, thanking him for his hint, and informing him that the 
lesulls of it had been as satisfactory as in such a case was possible. 
Hardy appeared sincerely penitent, and willing to embrace, and 
anxious lo profit by the truths of religion, as far as his weakened 
faculties enabled him to apprehend them. He added that lie was 
sinking fast, and had expressed the greatest desire to see L' wis 
again before he died, as he had some request to make to him. On 
the receipt of this information, Lewis immediately set out for H . 

A great ^ichange had taken place in Hardy’s appearance in tliose 
three days. His clieeks had become still more hollow, the unnatural 
brightness ot his eyes was replaced by a dull, leaden look, and the 
hectic color had faded to the pale, ashy hue of approaching dissolu- 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


311 


lion, while the hoarse, deep t'>ne8 of his voice were reduced almost 
to a whisper through weakness. Bui the most remarkable change 
was in the expression of his features; the sullen scowl, which be> 
tokened a spirit at war alike with itself and olhers, had given place 
to a look of calm resignation; there were indeed traces of bodily 
pain and mental anguish about the mouth, but the upper part of 
the face was in complete repose. Lewis gazed upon him with deep 
Interest, and the idea suggested itsell that thus miffiit have appeared 
the demoniac, when the words of power had gone forth: “Hold 
thy peace and come out of him.” Nor was the comparison inapt, 
for if ever the mind of man was possessed by an evil spirit, that of 
Hardy had been so by the demon of revenge. As the dying man 
preceive his approach, his features lighted up. 

‘‘ 1 knew you would come, Mr. Arundel,” he said; ” I felt that 
1 should not die without seeing you again.” 

‘‘ Do you suffer much pain now. Hardy?” inquired Lewis, kindly. 

” Scarcely any since six o’clock this morning, sir,” was the re- 
ply; ” but 1 know what tha'C means— that’s mortification coming 
on. I’ve seen men die from saber wounds before now. I was a 
soldier once; at least I was farrier to a troop of cavalry, which is 
much the same thing; but this was not what 1 wanted to say—” 
He paused from exhaustion and pointed to a glass containing some 
sirenglhening cordial Lewis held it to his parched lips; having 
diunk a portion of it he appeared considerably revived. 

‘‘ 1 am going fast,” he resumed, ‘‘ and must not waste the min- 
utes that remain. You have treated me with kindness, sir— one of 
the few who have ever done so — you are a bold foe -and a warm- 
hearted friend, and that is a character 1 understand and can trust. 
Moreover, you tell me you showed poor Jane ” (as he mentioneil 
his daughter’s name tears stood in his eyes, and his breath came 
short and fast) ” her danger, and strove to warn her against the 
viilain who has wronged her, and this shows you are a good man; 
I herefore, 1 am going to ask you to do me a favor. When 1 am dead 
1 w'ant you to find out Jane, and tell her whatever you may think 
l)e>t to induce her to leave this man, and when she hears that I’m 
(h ad, if she seems to feel it very deep and take on about it — which 
likely enough she will, for she did care for me once — you may tell 
her that 1 forgave her before 1 died. 1 never thought to do so, for 
she has finished what her mother began; betw^een them they’ve first 
made me the devil I have been, and then broken my heart.” He 
paused, and when he had sulficiently recovered breath continued. 
” When 1 married her mother, five and- twenty years ago, 1 was a 
different man from whatever you’ve known me. I’d been brought 
up to ray father’s trade of a blacksmith, and worked steadily at it 
till 1 was able to lay by a fair sum of money, besides keeping the 
old nian as long as he was alive. However, in the village where we 
lived was a larmer, well to do in the world, and his daughter was 
far the prettiest girl in those parts; she’d had a good education, and 
gave herself airs like a lady, and looked down upon a rough young 
fellow like me; but I bore it patiently, fur I loved her and deter- 
mined I’d marry her. For a long time she would not look at me, 
but I persevered; any man that came a-courting her I picked a 
quarrel with and thrashed; 1 found many ways of making myself 


S12 


LEWIS ARUJIDEL. 


iisetul to the old man her father, and somehow she got used to me 
like, and grew less scornful, and just then a sister of my father’s, 
who had been housekeeper at J^roadhurst, died and left me £300, 
and I’d saved about two more, and the old man wanted help to 
manage his faim, and the long and short of the matter was, 1 
married Harriet Wylde, look a farm next her father’s, and gave up 
blacksmithing. 

“ For four years I was happy as man could be, everything seemed 
to prosper with me; my wife had one child, a girl; a proud man 
was 1 when she was first placed in my arms, but had I known what 
was to be her fate, 1 would have smothered her in her cradle. There 
was a young gentleman lived near us— his father was a rich baronet 
— 1 had been accustomed to break in horses for the son, and when 
1 took the farm we used to shoot together. He was a trank, gen- 
erous-hearted man, and treated me like a friend and equal. On our 
shooting expeditions he would often come and lunch at my house; 
on one occasion he brought his younger brother with him. This 
young man had just returned from Italy, and brought foreign man- 
neis and foreign vices with him. My wife was still very good-look- 
ing, liue poor Jane, but handsomer, and this young villain coveted 
her beauty. 1 know not what arts he used; 1 suspected nothing, 
saw nothing, but one evening on rny return home my home wuis 
desolate. 1 obtained traces of the fugitives— he had taken her to a 
seaport town in the south of England, meaning to embark for 
France— 1 followed them and in the open street 1 met him; the by- 
standers interfered between us or 1 should have slain him where he 
stood. He was tak^n to an inn where he kept his bed for some 
weeks from the effects of the punishment 1 had administered to 
him. 1 was dragged off to prison; the law which suffered him to 
rob me of her whom 1 prized more dearly tlian liouse or goods, 
punished me for chastising the scoundrel with six months’ imprison- 
ment. 1 consorted with thieves, poachers and the refuse of society, 
and in my mndness to obtain revenge upon the class which had in- 
jured me, 1 listened to their specious arguments till 1 became the 
curse to myself and others wiiich you, sir, have known me. Well, 
society sent me to school, and suciety has had the benefit of the 
lessons that were taught me. I came out of jail a bad and well-nigh 
a desperate man, to learn that my wife had returned to her father’s 
house and died, giving birth to a boy In my anger 1 refused to 
ackuDwledge the child, but the old man took care of it. Time 
passed on. The elder of the two brothers quarreled with his father 
and died abroad, the .younger one married; but God visited him for 
his sin; his wife saw by accident in an old newspaper an account of 
my trial for the assault; the shock brought on a premature ’confine- 
ment; she also died in child-birth and the child remained an idiot. 
Yes, you start, but you liave guessed rightly— the boy to whom 
you are tutor is the son of the man who wronged me. The ways of 
God are very wonderful; had the boy possessed iris proper senses 
you micht never have come here, and 1 might not now be lying on 
my death-bed.” 

Again Hardy broke off from weakness; and again Lewis adminis- 
tered the cordial to him, and wiped the cold dews from his brow. 

” Little more remains to tell/’ he p4ded after a few minutes* 


LEWIS AllUKDEL. 


313 


pause; and ’tis well that it is so, tor death comes on apace. 1 do 
not tear to die; 1 have long wished myself dead, life was such deep 
misery; yet now 1 sliould be glad to live, that 1 might undo some 
of the evil I have caused. Since 1 saw 3mu last i have lelt more 
like my former self than I have ever done from the time my wife 
left me. Poor Harriet! Do .you think we shall meet in the world 
of spirits, Mr. Arundel?’' 

“These are things God alone knows,” replied Lewis, gravely; 
“ He has not seen fit to reveal to living men the secrets of the 
gravel” 

After a short silence, in which Hardy appeared to be collecting 
strength to finish his relation, he continued: 

“ After my release from the prison 1 took to drinking to banish 
reflection. i)rin«tiag is a vice which brings all others in its train. 
I soon fell into bad company — became involved in debt; and at last, 
in a diunken fit, enlisted in the — th dragoons — my height attracting 
the notice of a recruiting party from that regiment. 1 served ten 
years, at the end of which lime my wife’s father died and left his 
little property between the two children, with the excepiion of a 
sum to purchase my discharge, it 1 chose to come and take care of 
them. The confinement and regularity of a soldier’s life did not 
suit me, and 1 availed myself of the opportunity thus offered, re- 
turned liome, and lived on a certain income set apart for the main- 
tenance and education of the children. This was a fresh chance lor 
me, and had 1 conducted myself properly 1 might liave yet known 
some peaceful years; but a craving for excitement haunted me. 1 
sought out some of my old companions, joined a Chartist associa- 
tion, took to habits ot poaching: and this has been the end of it.” 

“ What became of the boy who was left to your care?” inquired 
Lewis. Hardy uttered a low groan. 

“ That is another sin 1 have to answer for,” he said. “ I never 
liked the child — 1 doubted whether it was mine, and the sight of it 
recalled the memory of my wrongs; accordingly 1 treated the boy 
harshly, and he repaid me by sullen disobedience; and j^et there 
should have been sympathy between us. He was brave even to 
rashness, and copied my vices with an aptitude which proved his 
power of acquiring better things. By the time he was thirteen he 
could set a snare, hit a bird on the wing, thrash any boy ot his 
weight, and, alas* drink, game, and swear as well as i could my- 
self. One night 1 had been driuKing. He angered me, and in 
. rage 1 struck him. For a moment he Ic'oked as it he would return 
the blow; but the folly of such an attempt seemed to occur to him, 
and he glanced toward a knife which lay on the table; then his 
sister threw her arms round him anil he refrained. He waited till 
she had gone to bed, sitting sulkily without speaking. When we 
were alone he looked up and asked me abruptly: ‘ Ealher, are you 
sorry that you struck me that blow?’ There was something in the 
boy’s manner that appealed to my belter feelings, and 1 w\as half 
inclined to own myself wuong, but a false sliame prevented me and 
1 angrily replied, ‘that ] would repeat the blow it he gave me any 
more ot his impertinence.’ He looked sternly at me and rrinttering, 
‘ That you shall never do,’ quitted the room. From that day to this 
1 have never seen him. My poor Jane, who was doalingly fond of 


314 


LEWIS AKUKDEL 


him, was broken-hearted at his loss. She told me he often Ihreat- 
eneded to run away when 1 had treated him harshly, and that his 
intention was to go to sea. 1 have no doubt he contrived to pul it 
into execution. Perhaps it her brother had remained with her, the 
poor girl might not have left her home so readily. God help me, 
m}^ sins have brought their own punishment. ” 

An attack of faintness here overpowered liim of so severe a char- 
acter that l ewis thought it advisable to summon assistance. When 
JlardyJiad in some degree recovered, on consulting his watch, Lewis 
found that he must return without further delay; he therefore pre- 
pared to depart, bidding ilnrdy farewell and promising to see him 
again on the following day. The dying man shook his head. 

“ There win be no to-morrow tor me in this world,” he said; then 
pressing Lewis’s hand he added; “God bless you, Mr. Arundel; 
you have done me more good by your kind words than your sword 
nas done me evil; nay, even for my death ] thank you; tor had 1 
lived on as 1 was 1 should only have added crime to crime. Ton 
will remember your promise about poor dane?” 

Lewis repeated his willingness to do all in his powder to carry out 
the d 3 dng man’s wishes, and Hardy added: “It maybe that the 
poor boy 1 told you of is still alive; if he should ever return 1 should 
like him to know that 1 have often grieved for my bad conduct to 
liim. 1 have let! a letter for you with the clergyman, in ease 1 had 
not seen you,” he continued; “ it only contains the request 1 have 
now made and one or twm other particulars of less consequence; he 
will give it to you when 1 anj gone.” He again pressed Lewis’s 
hand feebly and closing his eyes. Jay more dead than nlive. 

As Lewis quitted the room the surgeon met him, and informed 
him tliatit was not probable Hard}^ w’onld survive through the nighty 
but promised that ever}' attention should be bestowed upon liim. 
IjGwis’s thoughts as lie rode back to Hroadhurst, naturally lan upon 
the liistory of sin and shame and sorrow to which he had just 
listened, and he could not hut wonder for what purpose a frank, 
generous nature, such as Hardy had originally possessed, should 
iiave been so severely tried. A like question may have occurred 
to many of us, and we may have felt tliat the safest course is to 
look upon such things as mysteries to be regarded by the twilight 
of a patient faith which waits trustfully till all that now seems dark 
shall be made clear in the glorious brightness of the perfect day. 


CHAPTER XLVHl. 

CONTAINS A rAKADOX — PEWIS WHEN LEAST RESIGNED DISPLAYS 
THE VIRTUE OF RESIGNATION. 

On the morning after his second visit to Hardy, Levvis received a 
paekit from the hospital chaplain, inclosing the letter of which the 
(lying man had spoken, together with a note containing the infor- 
malion that Manly had bre ithed his last about twm hours Ijefore 
daybreak. The chaplain had seen him and jiniged him to he in a 
fitting stale of mind to receive the last consolations of religion. 
Aft(ir partaking of the Holy Communion he had fallen into a slate 
of unconsciousness, and died without any return of pain. Lewis 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


315 


opened Hardy’s letter; it merely contained a repetition of there* 
quest in regard to his unfortunate daughter, together with a refer- 
ence to one of his associates, in whose possession was a packet con- 
taining his father-in-law’s will and other papers, all of wliicli he 
hegged Lewis to take charge of and examine at his leisure; he also 
gave a clew by which Miss Grant’s watch and trinkets might be re- 
covered, and expressed his deep penitence for that robbery, as well 
as for his other crimes. As Lewis perused this letter, he for the first 
time became fully aware of the embarrassing situation in which he 
had placed himself by his promise to Hardy. How was he to dis- 
cover Lord BedefiekUs victim? How endeav'or to reclaim her? 
After a few minutes’ thought his determination was taken. Gen- 
eral Grant had announced that morning the tact that Lord Belle- 
field, having accepted an invitation to Broadhurst, might be ex- 
pected in the course of the following day. Lewis therefore 
resolved to address a letter to his lordship, to be given him 
on his arrival, detailing such portions of Harm’s confession as re- 
lated to his daughter, and the promise which he had been induced 
to make to the dying poacher; adding, that if Lord Bellefield w^ould 
afford him the informatkm necessary in order to enable him to carry 
out her father’s wishes, and pledge his word of honor to avoid her 
for the future, he should not attempt to give publicity to the mat- 
ter; but that in the event of his refusal, he should feel it his duty to 
make General Grant acquainted with the whole affair. 

In pursuance of the system he had laid down for himself, Lewis 
avoided Annie’s society as much as possible: a line of conduct 
which she soon appeared to observe, and at first to wonder at. The 
arrival of Lord Bellefield, however, and her knowledge of Lewis’s 
feelings toward him, afforded her an imaginary clew to the young 
tutor’s altered demeanor; still the change annoyed and pained her 
more than she chose to acknowledge even to her own heart. Lord 
Bellefield was all amiability; he had visited Italy and brought back 
innumerable anecdotes of the domestic felicity of his brother 
Charles, whose wife he reported to bo a model U) her sex. His ac- 
counts of Charles’s prodigious business efforts, varied by occiisional 
lapses into the dolce far niente of dandyism, were amusing in the ex- 
treme. Annie was forced to own that her cousin appeared greatly 
improved, and yet her repugnance to a renewal of the engagement 
seemed* daily to increase. General Grant, however, by no means 
sympathized with this caprice, as he considered it, and was only 
restrained from some viok nt manifestation of domestic despotism by 
his confidence in his own authority, and in the certainty of Annie’s 
obedience, whenever he might see fit to demand it. Lewis wrote the 
letter to Lord Bellefield, and halving ascertained that it had reached 
him safely, waited patiently for an answer. Several days elapsed 
without his receiving one, and he was debating what step he should 
next take, when, as he was pacing up and down a shrubbery w^alk, 
wrapped in meditation, he suddenly met Lord Bellefield face to 
face. Determining not to lose the opportunity, he raised his hat, 
and bowing slightly, began: 

“ This meeting is fortunate, as I am anxious to ask your lord- 
ship a question. Have you not received a letter from me?” 

” 1 have, sir,” was the haughty and concise reply. 


316 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


“ It is customary between gentlemen to acknowledge the receipt 
of a letter,” urged Lewis, ” more particularly when, as in this in- 
stance, the writer has pledged himself to act according to tbe tenor 
of the answer.” 

‘‘ 1 scarcely see how your observation applies to the present case,” 
was the insolent rejoinder. ‘‘In regard to your letter, 1 have 
treated it with the silent contempt it iiierited.” 

Lewis’s brow flushed; controlling the angry impulse, however, he 
said calmly: Your lordship can not irritate me by such insinua- 
tions; you are aware of the alternative when you refuse to answer 
my letter?” 

” 1 am, sir; you are welcome to take any course you please. I 
scorn your false accusations, and leave you to do your worst.” 

‘‘ In that case we understand each other,” was the stem reply, 
and again raising his hat, Lewis passed on. 

After this brief conversation he lost no lime in obtaining a private 
interview with General Grant. Scarcely, however, had he begun 
his statement, when the general interrupted him by observing: 

” 1 need not trouble you to proceed, Mr. Arundel; 1 am in pos- 
session of all the facts you are about to detail. Lord Bellefield has 
given me a full explanation of the matter, and 1 can assure you that 
you are laboring under an erroneous impression. The mam facta 
of the story are, 1 am sorry to say, true; but the chief actor in the 
aftair was a rascally valet of Lord Bellefield’s who assumed his mas- 
ter’s name and apparel, in order to accomplish his netarious de- 
signs.” 

” But 1 myself, witnessed an interview between Lord Bellefield 
and the poor girl on the morning after the ball,” returned Lewis, in 
surprise. ” 1 should not have brought such a charge on iusutticieut 
grounds, believe me.’' 

” Your zeal, sir,” replied the general*—” for 1 am willing to at- 
tiibute the step you have taken solely to your misdirected zerd — has 
assuredly led you into error. Lord Bellefield, who seems by some 
means aware of this idea of yours—” 

” I mentioned that 1 saw him in a letter which 1 addressed to him 
on the subject,” interrupted Lewis. “It is only lair when you ac- 
cuse a man of any fault, to explain the grounds on which you be- 
lieve him to have committed it.” 

” Quite right, sir, quite right,” rejoined the general, with an ap- 
proving nod. ” It is owing to this fair and manly way in which 
you have stated this matter, that Lord Bellefield has been enabled 
to clear himself to my entire satisfaction. In regard to Ihe inter- 
view to which you refer, he has recalled to me the fact that he spent 
the morning in question almost entirely in my company; we were 
engaged upon matters connected with the appioaching election; you 
must therefore have mistaken the identity of the person you imag- 
ined to be him.” 

” 1 am not apt to make such mistakes,” returned Lewis, dryly, 
feeling convinced that the story was a clever fabrication from be- 
ginning to end, while at the same time he w’as becoming aware that, 
for him to piove it to be so would be next to impossible. 

” Nevertheless you must have done so in this instance,” resunud 
General Grant; ” but the mistake is easily to be accounted for. 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


317 


Lord Bellefield tells me, that in order more safely to carry on his 
schemes, this rascally valet used (o disguise himself so as to resem- 
ble his master as much as possible, even wearing false mustaches 
to increase the likeness. The fact of his having deceived you 
proves how successfully the fellow had contrived his disguise.’^ 

While the general was speaking, Lewis hastily ran over in his 
mind all the evidence he possessed to prove Lord Bellefleld’s guilt, 
and though he still felt as deeply convinced as he had ever been, 
that in his first impression he had not erred, yet so skillfully had this 
story of the valet Wn adapted to suit the circumstances of the case, 
that it appeared impossible to undeceive a man whose habits of 
mind were so obstinate as those of General Grant. His first inlro- 
duction to the girl after the glove affair in the ice-room, altliough it 
carried conviction to his own mind, proved nothing, save that hav- 
ing witnessed a quarrel between two gentlemen, she was naturally 
enough alarmed as to the probable consequences to which it might 
lead. Again, in his second interview, she might have been herself 
deceived by the valet’s representations into believing him to be Lord 
Bellefield or, as she said, Mr. Leicester, his brother; or again it was 
still more probable that she had been in her lover’s confidence and 
striving to mystify and deceive Lewis. Hardy might hav^e been 
aware of other facts, but liis mistake in regard to Lewis proved that 
his information was not to be relied on. All this Lewis saw at a 
glance, and, seeing, felt raoro annoyed and embarrassed than he 
could express. 

“ Time will pro^e the truth,” he said. ‘‘ 1 can not believe in 
Lord Bcllefield’s innocence, but 1 am unable at the present moment 
to adduce any facts which might not bear the interpretation he has 
chosen to put upon them, and can only express my sorrow at having 
annoyed you, sir, by making a charge which 1 have failed to sub- 
stantiate.” 

” You annoy me more, Mr. Arundel, by refusing to be convinced 
by evidence which after having given the matter my fullest atten- 
tion has sufficed to satisfy me. 1 can only imagine that, in this 
matter, private pique has warped your usually clear judgment; per- 
haps, after a little cool reflection, you may be induced to take a 
more charitable view of the affair.” 

So saying, the general stalked out of the room with a majestic 
port, as of an offended lion, leaving Lewis in a frame of mind the 
reverse of seraphic. But his trials for that morning were not yet an 
at end. Annie Grant had brooded over the 5 mung tutor s gloomy 
looks and altered demeanor, till she had made herself quite unhap- 
py, when the idea occurred to her that she herself might be to 
blame. Since the last German lesson, to which allusion has been 
made, she had felt an instinctive dread of sounding the depths of 
her own feelings, or of allowing any one else, and much more 
Lewis, to perceive them. But it now struck her that in avoiding 
one extreme she had fallen into the other, and that Lewis might 
conceive the alteration in her manner to be owing to Lord Belle- 
field’s influence. This notion having once struck her, was so incon- 
ceivably painful, that she determined to avail herself of the first op- 
portunity of inquiring to what cause Lewis’s estrangement might 
be attributed, and if she found it had been produced by any sup- 


318 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


posed coolness on her part, she resolved to explain away such im- 
piession, and, as she herself would have termed it, “ make friends ” 
again. Pondering these thoughts, she entered the library by a door 
coni'iiunicating with the garden; in her hand she carried a bunch 
of roses which she had just gathered, and hanging from her arm 
was her garden bonnet, which she converted for the occasion into 
an extempore basket, also filled with roses; her golden ringlets, 
scared from their propriety by the wind, hung in picturesque dis- 
order about her face and neck; the alarm she had lately undergone 
had rendered her somewhat paler than ordinary, and her delicate 
features were characterized by an unusually pensive expression. 
Slie entered so quietly that Lewis, who, buried in thought, was 
seated at the table, his head restinir on his hands, did not perceive 
her presence until, in a soft low voice, she uttered his name. At 
the moment she spoke he was thinking of her, striving in vain to 
banish her image, whicli haunted his imagination liue some restless 
ghost, trying to think down the temptation, which was hourly be- 
coming too strong for him, and when the sound ot her voice reached 
him, and looking up with a start he saw her standing by him in all 
the power of her dazzling beauty, it seemed as though the phantom 
of his imagination had suddenly assumed a bodily shape, to tempt 
him beyond all power of resistance. Something of all this must 
have appeared in the expression ot his features, for Annie began: 
“ 1 beg your pardon, Mr. Arundel, 1 had no idea ot startling you; 
1 tancied you heard me enter. But you look pale and tremble, 
surely you are not ill?” 

“Oh, no!” he replied, forcing a smile, “it is nothing; a slight 
giddiness which will pass away in a moment.” 

As bespoke, however, he pressed his hand to his brow, which 
throbbed as though it would burst. Annie became alarmed, and 
placing her flowers on the table, she drew nearer to him, saying; 

“ 1 am sure there is something the matter. You are either ill or 
unhappy; you have received some bad news of your mother or dear 
Bose, is it not so?” 

“ Indeed, you are mistaken,” returned Lewis, making an effort to 
rouse himself. “ I was buried in thought, and 3 mur sudden en- 
trance startled me. 1 am not usually given to such freaks, but since 
our noctural adventure, 1 must confess to having become practically 
convinced ot the existence ot nerves, i must have lost more blood 
from this cut in the wrist than 1 was at first aware of.” 

“ Ahl that dreadful night!” exclaimed Annie, clasping her hands 
and turning pale at the recollection. “ 1 shall never forget all 1 
w^ent through on that night it 1 live to be a hundred. 1 had been 
asleep tor an hour or more, when 1 suddenly wokc and saw Lisetle 
standing by my bedside, pale and trembling. As soon as she could 
find voice to speak she lo'd me there were robbers in the house and 
that we should all be murdered. My first idea was tiiat you would 
be able to save us, and 1 told her to go and arouse you instantly; i 
soon found, however, she was too much alarmed to go alone, so 1 
rose and accompanied her. The rest you know; but you can never 
know the agony ot miml I suflered after you had left me; first the 
dreadful interval of suspense before the rahoers came upstairs, and 
then the fearful sounds ot the conflict. 1 telt sure they would kill 


319 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 

you, and 1 thought how wickedly selfish I had been to iillow you to 
stay there and meet them when, but forme, 5^011 might have escaped. 
1 felt as it 1 had condemned you to death, and that 1 could never- 
never be happy again. Oh, it was too horrible!” and carried away 
by the recollections she had called up, Annie sunk into a chair and 
covered her eyes with her hands, as it to shut out some painful 
object. 

And Lewis — what had been his feelings, as, hurried on by the in- 
terest of her subject, Annie had thus unconsciously attorded him a 
glimpse into the inmost recesses of her heart? When she mentioned 
that her impulse on the first alarm of danger had been to rely on his 
protection, his dark eyes beamed with an inexpressible tenderness; 
but as she proceeded, and her artless confession proved, that in the 
moment of peril her tears vere not for herself but for him, his 
emotions became uncontrollable, and the volcano of passion, whose 
secret fires had alread}'^ begun to prey upon his very life-springs, 
threatened to burst forth and bear down all before it. Already he 
had half risen from his seat; in another moment his arm would have 
encircled her and the words that told of his deep, his overpowering 
love — the words that once said could never have been recalled — 
would have been poured forth, when, b}'- one of tfiose dispensations 
of Providence wfiich men call chance, his eyes fell upon two per- 
sons who were pacing arm-in-arm, along a terrace- walk on the 
further side of the lawn; they were General Grant and Lord Belle- 
field. The revulsion of feeling was instantaneous. Duty, honor, 
pride, ail came to the rescue, and the fight was won, but the cost 
remained yet to reckon. Lewis, once excited, was not a person to 
take half measures. With the speed of thought the resolution rushed 
upon him, that while their mutual relations remained unchanged, 
he and Annie must never meet again. The purpose was no sooner 
formed than it was acted upon. Turning to his companion, who, 
engrossed by her own feelings, had remained wholly unconscious 
of the struggle that had been proceeding in Lewis’s breast, he said, 
in a calm, mournful voice: ” Although 1 have not exactly received 
evil tidings, yet circumstances have occurred which require my 
presence elsewhere, and 1 am now about to ask your father’s per- 
mission to leave Broadhurst. This will therefore probably be the 
last time I shall see you.” 

” Until you return,” interrupted Annie eagerly. 

A bitter smile flitted across Lewis's mouth as he replied: ” Tes, 
■until 1 return ! i will therefore bid you good-bye at once.” lie 
paused, and his eye fell upon a rosebud she was unconsciously play- 
ing with. ” I. have a fancy for that flower,” he said; ‘‘ will you 
give it to me?” 

“Nay, let me find you a better one,” was the reply; ” this is 
blighted.” 

‘‘For which reason 1 prefer it to any other; you know 1 have 
odd fancies sometimes.” He took the bud from her, fixed it in his 
button hole, then resumed: ‘‘ 1 must now seek the general. Good- 
bye!” 

Annie regarded him with a pleading glance, as though she would 
fain learn more; but reading in the stern resolution of his counte- 
nance the inutility of further questioning, held out her hand in 


320 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


silence; be took it, clasped it in bis own, then, yielding to an irre- 
sistible impulse, pressed it buniedly to lbs lips and was gone. 

General Grant was naturally by no means of a suspicious disposi- 
tion; the position in wbicb be was placed, giving bim irresponsible 
authority over nearly every person with whom be came in contact, 
liad rendered bim pompous and arbitrary; but altbougb not a man 
ot enlarged mind, or possessing much delicacy of perception, be 
was actuated by a strong principle of justice. This attribute im- 
parted a degree of frankness and generosity to bis character, wbicb, 
despite occasional displays of obstinacy or prejudice, caused bim to 
be very generally respected, and in some instances, beloved. To a 
mind of tiiis nature there can be nothing more vexatious or annoy- 
ing than to have its preconceived opinions of a person shaken by 
artful insinuations, which will require long and patient investiga- 
tion to verify or disprove. In such a state ot mind as we have de- 
scribed, however, did Lord Bellefield leave General Grant when, 
after pacing up and down the memorable terrace walk, which had 
been the scene of De Grandeville's ill-judged confidence to Charley 
Leicester, be at length quitted bim. The subject of their conversa- 
tion bad been the character of Lewis Arundel, and Lord Bellefield 
bad taken advantage of the general’s momentary irritation against 
the young tutor to suggest, rather than positively to make, the fol- 
lowing accusation : He fiisL hinted that the general bad been deceived 
by Lewis’s fair seeming, to adopt a wrong view ot his disposition, 
and that instead ot the chivalrous, high-spirited, honorable being he 
imagined bim, be was, in fact, an artful and accomplished hypo- 
crite. He then proceeded to state that he bad long seen this,' and 
even suspected the object of bis lengthened residence at Broadhurst, 
na}", possibly of bis original entrance into that family. This object 
be declared to be a systematic desiirn to insnare the affections of 
the general’s daughter, probably relying on his good looks and in- 
sinuating manner to enable him to inveigle her into a runaway mar- 
riage. “ Hence,” he observed, ‘‘ his animosity toward me; hence 
bis unsuccessful attempts to blacken my character, first in regard to 
the poor fellow who shothimseif, and now concerning the poacher’s 
daughter. If he could once have succeeded in producing a quarrel 
between us he would have bad a clear field to liimself. 1 was un- 
willing to disturb you by telling you this before, sir,” lie continued. 
” I felt perfect confidence in my Cousiu Annie’s affection, and as to 
the young fellow himself, he was of course quite beneath my notice. 
But Annie, alter all, is a mere giil, aud naturally inexperienced in 
the ways ot the w’orld. Since the hint you threw out, advising me 
to proceed with gentleness, because she appeared to have some girl- 
ish scruples as to the renewal of the engagement, 1 have felt it was 
incumbent on me to put you on your guard without delay. 'The 
man is handsome— chance has given him many opportunities ot in- 
teresting a lomantic girl, aud it must be confessed our dear Annie 
has a spice of romance about her.” 

“1 do not think so, sir,” interrupted the general snappishly; 
” none of the Grants ever were romantic. 1 am not romantic my- 
self, and 1 do not believe a daughter ot mine would forget her duly, 
her position, in fact, her relationship to me, so far as to indulge in 
romance in regard to a i)rivate tutor. Moreover, 1 believe Mr. 


LEWIS AKUIIDEL. 


321 


Arundel to be a highly honorable young man. He is the son of a 
soldier and a gentleman, and 1 can not but consider you wrong him 
by your suiipicions; at the same time 1 promise you the matter shall 
be looked into, the engagement between my daughter and yourself 
formally renewed, and the moment she is of age it is my wish that 
the marriage should take place. It is desirable for your sake as 
well as forliers. 1 trust when you become a married man to see 
you give up racing, und take more interest in public business. It 
is, as you are aware, my intention to settle Broadhurst upon your 
second son; it will therefore behoove you to distinguish yourself as 
one in whom the families of Leicester and Grant are united.” 

So saying, the general relapsed into a solemn silence, and Lord 
Bellefield, inwardly raging at the tone of authority which his future 
lather-in-law saw fit to assume toward him, quitted him, leaving 
the poison he bad instilled into his mind to work; an 1 it did work, 
for although he was disinclined in the highest degree to admit the 
truth of his intended son-in-law’s insinuations against Lewis, yet he 
could not banish them from his mind. A thousand little circum 
stances came to his recollection, of which at the moment he had 
thought nothing, but which now appeared to favor Lord Bellefield 's 
view of the case, and for the first time his own imprudence in throw- 
ing so constantly together two young people in every way calculated 
to attract each other, occurred to him. anil he paced the terrace- walk 
in a frame of mind by no means customary to that gallant oflicer; 
viz., of self -reprobation. tVhile thus pondering, at a sudden turn 
in the walk the object of his thoughts appeared before him, looking 
so tall, dark and cold, as with bis arms folded across his breast, be 
stood statue-like beneath the shadow of an old yew-tree, that the 
general started as though he had seen a ghost. If any such notion 
occurred to him, however, the illusion was soori dissipated, for 
Lewis, raising his hat, advanced toward him and said: 

‘‘ 1 have sought you. General Grant, to thank you for all the gen- 
erous courtesy 1 have received at your hands, and to tell you that it 
is impossible for me longer to continue a member of your house- 
hold.” 

As Lewis spoke these words calmly and respectfully, the general s 
face assumed an expression of surprise and dismay most wonderful 
to behold. 

‘‘ What!” he exclaimed, “resign your appointment as tutor to 
my ward? quit Sir Walter before you have completed his education, 
when your s^^stem has been so surprisingly successful? Oh, the 
thing IS impossible; 1 :an not hear of it,” 

A look of sorrow passed across Lewis’s features as the general 
mentioned Walter, but he replied wdtli the same calm, respectlul, 
but determined manner, wliich to one who knew him well would 
have proved that he was acting in accordance with some resolve that 
he bad formed, and to which he would adhere inflexibly. 

“ 1 am grieved to be obliged to relinquish my task unfinished,” he 
said, “ more especially since the interest 1 have long felt in my poor 
piioil has rendered duties which others might consider i-'Ksome a 
labor of love to me. I trust, however, that 1 have been enabled so 
far to develop poor Walter's iutellects that any person who will 
treat him judiciously aud kindly (and to no other 1 am suie yuu 


LEWIS ARUilDEL. 




would intrust him) may be able to complete all that remains to be 
doue toward Ids education.” 

‘‘ And pra}’^ what is your reason for this su:lden determination, 
Mr. Arundel?” incpdred the general, becoming more and more per- 
plexed, as he perceived that it would be no ea^^y matter to shake 
Lewis’s resolve. ” 1 presume some more advantageous prospect has 
been thrown open to you?” 

Lewis shook his head mournfully. ” You wrong me by siuh a 
supposition, sir,” he replied. ” My future, as tar as 1 can foresee 
it, IS not a bright one, believe me.” 

‘‘ Has Lord Bellelield in any way annoyed or interfered with 
you?” inquired the general, as a suspicion crossed his mind that his 
amiable future son-in-law might have taken SDine aggressive step 
toward the 3"oung tutor; but Lewis again replied in the negative, 
adding that his reason for resigning his post was entirely of a per- 
sonal nature, and that he had not come to the conclusion without 
due consideiation, 

‘‘Really, sir,” returned the general, drawing himself up stiffly, 
‘‘ these enigmas are past my comprehension. You suddenly propose 
to resign the conduct of my ward’s education, tliereby materially 
injuring him, and causing me the greatest inconvenience and aiin«‘y- 
ance. 1 think, therefore, you owe it to me as well as to yourself 
candidly to state ^mur reason for so doing; at all events 1 must be 
allowed to say, such concealment is most unlike your usual frank 
and manly course of proceeding.” 

As the general uttered this reproach Lewis colored and his com- 
pressed lip and knitted brow told how deeply it affected him. When 
the other had ceased speaking he answered haughtily: “Your re- 
proof may be deserved, General Grant, but it was the wish to save 
us both pain which alone induced me to desire the concealment you 
reprobate. Your words, liowever, oblige me to speak openly, and, 
cost what it may, 1 will do so. lean not remain longer beneath 
your roof, because 1 bwe your daughter. Wait,” he continued stern- 
ly, as with a start of horrified surprise the general seemed about to 
give vent to his indignation in a torrent of words; ” you have forced 
me to speak, and must now hear me out. 1 well know the feelings 
with which you regard my mad presumption, as you consider it; 1 
know belter even than 3^011 do the gult which lies betweem your 
daughter and your paid dependent; but nature recognizes 110 such 
distinctions; the same God wlu) made the good and beaulitul, im- 
planted in my breast the admiration for those qualities, and i could 
no more exist in her presence without loving her than I could stand 
in the glorious sunshine without feeling its genial warmth. JMy love 
was from the beginning as hopeless as 1 know it to be at this mo- 
ment, when 1 resul in your lowering brow lliat it your frovNii could 
annihilate me you would deem the punishment only too mild for 
my offense against 3mur pride of station; and yet 1 know, tind 3^011 
know it too, that, casting aside the adventitious gifts of rank and 
fortune, my nature is more akin to 3 our own than is that of the 
titled worldling you have selected as youi future son-in-law. Be- 
fore night sets in i snail have left this house forever, and from 
that moment to you and yours 1 shall be as one dead. I may, there- 
fore, say without fear of misconstruction, that which i could not 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


3-^3 

speak as long as 1 remained a member of your household. The tale 
that 1 told you regarding the poacher’s child was true. In the ver- 
sion Lord Bellefield gave of it he lied to you. He is a man of evil 
passions and of narrow mind, and I warn you if you intrust your 
daughter’s happiness’ to him, a time will come when you will bit- 
terly repent it. 1 will next tell you why 1 have remained here thus 
long, and why 1 leave you now. My passion for your daughter 
has been the growth of months. How 1 have stiiven against it and 
endeavored to crush it out, ay, though 1 crushed my heart with it, 
none will ever know; it is enough that i have failed, that where 1 
fancied m^^self strong 1 have been proved weak. 1 feel 1 ha\e 
suffered; ’tis through my own folly: it my future appear one fath- 
omless hell of recollection, tor myselt have 1 prepared it.” He 
pause 3, drew his hand across his throbbing brow, and then con- 
tinued : 

” 1 remained here for Walter’s sake, relying on my own fortitude 
to conceal the mental torture 1 endured.’ 1 bore Lord Bellefield’s 
sneers, and, harder still, your daughter’s gentle kiadneFs, with an 
unmoved aspecl ; but at each successive trial the effort became 
greater, and my strength grew less, until this morning, when, in her 
tender woman’s mercy, your daughter, reading in my face traces of 
the angJiish that was consuming me, spoke words of kindliness and 
sjunpath}^ chance alone, or rather the providence of God, prevented 
my secret from transpiring. A similar trial might recur at any 
moment; 1 have lost all confidence in my power of self-control; 
therefore, every principle of honor and of duty bids me leave this 
place without delay; and this, so help me Heaven, is the whole and 
simple truth.” 

As he concluded General Grant, wliose brow had gradually re- 
laxed during Lewis’s speech, exclaimed with a degree of warmth 
Diost unusual to him: “You have behaved like a man of honor, 
Mr. Arundel, under what 1 own to have been a very great trial, and 
I admire and respect you for so competcly justifying the favorable 
opinion 1 have formed of you. 1 wish, that is, I could wish, if the 
thing were not impossible— but it is useless to talk in this way — you 
must, as you wisely perceive, leave Broadhurst immediately. 1 w ill 
take upon me to find some reason to account for your abrupt de- 
parture, but 5^011 will carry with you my esteem and gratitude, and 
in whatever career you may think fit to adopt you may rely upon 
my willingness to assist you to the uttermost. May 1 inquire your 
tuture plans?” 

‘‘ 1 have formed no plans,” returned Lewis, hurriedly. “ 'W hen 
1 1( ave your house, my only prospect is to commence life anew, 
with every hope that renders life endurable shut out from me for- 
ever. 1 am grateful for your offers, but must decline them. Hence 
forward I am likely to do little credit to any one’s patronage, and 
must strive with existence alone and single-handed. And now, ere 
1 leave a^ou, let me again thank you for the courtesy you have uni- 
formly shown me. 1 ex{)ccted justice at your hands, you have 
added kindness also. \Ye shall probabl}^ never meet again, but the 
chances of life are strange, and should it ever be in my flow er to le- 
tuiu 3 'our oenefits, you wu’ll not find me forgetful.” 

lie raised his hat as he spoke, and turned to depart. General 


LEWIS AUUNDEL. 


Grant advanced as if he would detain him, but checking himself, 
he muttered: 

“ You sliall hear from me; 1 will write to you at your banker’s 
and Lewis bowed and left him. 


CHAPTER XLVllL 

snows HOW LEWIS CAME TO A “ DOGGED ” DETERMINATION, AND 
WAS MADE THE SHUTTLE-COCK OP FATE. 

“ Walter, 1 am going to leave you,” observed Lewis, in a quiet, 
gentle v )ice. 

Walter, who was seated on a low stool, playing with Faust, con- 
tinued liis amusement, merely replying carelessly: ” Are .you?” 

Lewis knew from the nature of the answer that the sound but 
not the sense of his communication had reached his poor pupil’s 
understanding, and yet the apparent indifference of the remark 
pained him; it seemed as if all he loved were falling away from 
him. He had determined that it would be better for Walter not to 
be told at once that he was leaving never to return, but to allow 
the truth gradually to dawn upon him, after he had practically test- 
ed the ability to do without him; still he was anxious in some de- 
gree to prepare the poor boy’s mind to support the severe grief 
which he feared his absence would occasion him. Accordingly he 
returned to the attack. 

” Look at me. SValler,” lie said. Having caught his ey«e he con- 
tinued: ” You did not underidand me, dear boy; 1 am going away 
— going to leave you lor a long time.” 

‘‘Ay? how long a time? a week?” inquired Walter. 

‘‘A great many weeks, ’ returned Lewis, gravely; ‘‘and you 
must be very good all the time, and do everything as you know I 
should w’ish you to do if 1 w ere here. Do you understand me, and 
will you try?” 

Walter nodded assent, paused, and then asked: “What will 
Faust do? May he stay with me?” 

Lewis did not answer. Give up Faust, the only thing that he 
had left to love him; could he make the sacrifice? 

“ Because if he may stay 1 shall teel sure you will come back 
some time or other; nobody can leave Faust and not come and see 
him again— at least nobody who kuowt> him and loves him as w^ell 
as you and 1 do,” pleaded Waller, llirowing his arm round the 
dog's neck. 

1 am inflicting injury enough on the poor boy as it is, reflected 
Lewis, sorrowfully; 1 must not deny him this thing which he lias 
set his bean upon. Well, it only makes the sacrifice the more com- 
plete. “ Walter, will you be happy it 1 leave Faust with you?” he 
inquired, gently. 

“Oh, yes,” w^ as the joyful reply; “quite happy till you come 
again.” 

“ Then he shall stay,” resumed Lewds. “ Remember, be is .your 
dog; 1 give him to you.” 

“ Yes, he is my dog,” repeated Walter, gleefully—” only till you 


LEWIS AEUNDEL. 325 

come back again, thouffh, you know,” he added, gazing wistfully 
at Lewis. 

Poor Lewis! bis heart was full; he could not trust himself to 
speak; this little incident had appealed to the aflectionate side of 
his nature, and all hut unmanned him. He approached Waller, 
swept back the soft hair from his forehead and imprinted a kiss on 
it, patted Paust’s shaggy head, and turning away abruptly quitted 
the room. Ere niglit-fall he had completed the few arrangements 
which his sudden departure rendered necessary, and taking with 
him only a small traveling valise which he slung across his should- 
ers, he waited till the shades ot evening had set in, and leaving direc- 
tions with his ally, Robert, now invested with all the dignity and 
privileges of butlerhood, in regard to his luggage, which he desired 
might be forwarded to a certain address in London, he quilted 
Broadhurst alone and on foot. 

The town of H was situated about twenty miles from the 

park-gates of Brofidhurst, and thither did J^ewds direct his steps. 
He paced along mechanically, with a dull, heavy tread, as unlike 
his usual free, elastic step as possible; he kept his eyes fixed on the 
road before him, neither glancing to the right nor the left; and all 
his actions appeared like those of one moving in a dream. The 
night was dry and warm, and when Lewis had proceeded about six 
miles on bis way the moon rame out, and bathed hill and valley in 
a flood ot silvery light. Suddenly he paused, as the ruins of a pict- 
uresque old abbey, thrown out in bold relief by a dark background 
of trees, because visible at a turning of the road, and, fixing his eyes 
on the time-worn structuie, gazed Jong and earnestly; tlien a new 
idea seemed to strike him, and, springing over a gate, he ascended 
with vigorous strides the green hill-side on which the ruin w^as 
situated. Passing beneath crumbling arches, and over the fallen 
stone- work covering old graves of a forgotten generation, he reached 
a portion of the building which seemed in somewhat better repair 
than the remainder. liaving reached the upper end of the chancel, 
he paused, and leaning his back against the broken shaft of a pillar 
w^hich had supported one ot the arches, gave way to the painful 
recollections which the place excited. The last time he had visited 
the spot Annie Grant had stood by his side, and as he taught her 
how the mystic piety ot our forefathers had striven to symbolize the 
truths of Christianity In the cruciform cathedral, with its vaulted 
arches and heaven-aspiring pinnacles, her soft blue eyes had looked 
into his face, wdth an expression of the respectful love we feel to- 
ward one whom w^e deem belter and wiser than ourselves. And now 
how cruel was the contrast— how completely and painfully alone 
he felt— and then he longed (wdio has not at some crisis of the inner- 
life?) so earnestly, that he almost fancied he possessed the power, 
to separate mind and matter, and flying in the spirit to her he loved, 
to iearn whether she thought of him, and grieved for his absence. 
Pursuing the idea, he came to speculate on many things. Had they 
yet told her he would not return? AVhat reason w^oiiki tne general 
assign for such an abiupt departure? Would she believe his ac- 
count, or would her heart divine the true cause? And it it did 
would she pity him? strongest proof of love— he could bea-r the idea 
of her pity. 


326 


LEWIS AKUNLEL. 


Poor Lewis! Perhaps his greatest trial was this, that at the very 
moment when he gave her up forever, a latent sense of power told 
him that he could have won her; this was, indeed, the “sorrow’s 
crown of sorrow “—the bitterness ot more than selt-renunciation, 
lor Annie, too, might be rendered unhappy by his act. Then 
the future, the blank, feaitul future— what lay in store for 
him there? “Fiesh sorrow -n(»“ (and he smiled as men on 
the rack have smiled when the tormentors have outwitted them- 
selves, and the numbness ot approaching death has produced insen- 
sibility to pain, and robbed them of their victim); “ he was dead 
alike to sorrow as to joy;“ but at the moment, as it to prove him 
weak even in the ms inertim of despair, the possibility of Annie’s 
union with Lord Belletied came before him like some hideous phan- 
tom, and he was forced to own that there might be depths ot misery 
aw’aitiug him greater than he had j^et proved. And thus recalling 
the past, and imagining the future, he afflicted himself with griefs 
real and visionary, till the moonbeams grew paler and altogether 
fled, and the stars disappeared one by one, and the red glow of the 
eastern sky proclaimed the coming day, and the sun arose glorious 
in his majesty, and his earliest rays pioiired Ihiough the broken roof 
and fell in a stream ot golden light upon the ruined altar. For the 
first lime that night Lewis thought of Rose, and ot what her advice 
would have been had she known of his unhappiness, and prostrat- 
ing himself upon the altar- step he prayed long and fervently. 

The reflection that wdien our sorrow has become too heavy for us 
to bear, there is One, mighty to save, Him.selt in His earthly career 
a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, who will strengthen 
us to suppon them, must console tbe deepest mental anguish, and 
w^e do not believe that any man has ever prayed truly and earnestly 
without receiving comfort from so doing, h’or the very .‘ict recog- 
nizes a belief in the existence, and faith in the henev« deuce, ot a 
Being, all-powerful alike lo avert the evil we dread and to bestow 
upon us the trood we desire. And Lewis, when he arose from his 
knees, did so refreshed in spirit, and better filled to do or to sufler 
as he might be required by the changes and chances of that poilioii 
ot The Railroad of Life over wbicli he had yet lo pass. 

He reached the towm of H as the inhabitants, aroused from 

their slumbers, were d»’owsily opening their shop- windows, and 
making his way to a small unobtrusive inn, breaktasted. Having 
ascertained at what hour tbe last coach passed througli tor London, 
he left his valise under the care ot the waiter, and passing along 
several dirty narrow streeets, at length reached a court in oue ot tbe 
poorest and most wretched quarters of the town. Here, af<er some 
trouble and a disagreeable amount ot threatening glances fromsundiy 
suspicious-looking characters, he succeeded iu discovering the abode 
of a certain Jerry Sullivan. This worthy, having satisfied himselt 
that Lewis was not a member of the detective police, graciously ac- 
corded him an interview, w’hcrein Lewis explained to him that iu 
consequence ot a communication made to him by Hardy on his 
death-bed, he was anxious to investigate the contents ot a packet 
Jett in possession of bis (Sullivan’s) maternal ancestor. This fact, 
Mr. Sullivan, whose brogue was considerably stronger than his re- 
gard for trutii, immediately saw fit lo deny, and w'as proceediu/*; to 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


327 

lament the death of his mother, which he averred had taken place 
that day tortniglil, when he was interrupted by the inopportune en- 
trance ot the lady in question, who api>eared by no means dead, but 
in a very lively slate ot virtuous indignation. She immediately 
silenced her menTlacious offspring, and beckoning Lewis into a 
Kind of d(*n which slie inhabited, shut the door, and then ques- 
tioned and cross-questioned him as to his connection with Hardy. 
Having satisfied herself, by perusing Hardy’s letter, that Lewis 
was no impostor, she unlocked an old trunk, whence she produced 
a bundle ot papers and a sheet of parchment. 

“ There,” she said, ‘‘ that’s the will he spoke of, poor fellow, 
and tlum’s the letters — and I only hope as you’ll be able to find the 
untor’nate cnildring, and that they will come into the money, all 
rigiit — it’s nigh £100 a year, I’m told.” 

** Have you any idea whether Hardy had at all traced his daughter 
since she left him?” inquired Lewis. 

” No, he heard nothing of her, poor chap; he was a’most broken- 
hearted about her, and that’s what drove him to the course he took. 
He worn’t a reg’lar prig, bless yer; lie did a little in the poaching 
line whiles, but onl}^ for the sake o’ the sport, same as you gents — 
he wor above them things altogether. But 1 knows more than he 
did about the gal; there were a young ’ooman here a weeK ago as 
hart seen her in London, dressed out and riding about in a coach 
like a lady; but that wor soon arter she fust went off with the young 
swell, and wov a kind of new toy like.” 

” And did not the girl know anything ot her since?” 

” Well, she know’d this much, that when the young lord went 
abroad with his sister, he made his valet stop behind, and toller 
him in a few days with dane Hardy, arter which she in course lost 
sight of her; but she thinks he’s left her over in them furring 
parts.” 

‘‘ Them furring parts — that must mean Italy,” thought Lewis; 
and finding the old woinhn had told him all she knew on the sub- 
ject, he thanked her for her information, secured the papers about 
ids person, and was preparing to depart, when his coin[:anion 
stopped him, and summoning »]crry, whose main it not only virtue 
appeared to consist in filial obedience, desired him to escort the 
” young gent ” beyond the purlieus ot the miserable alley in which 
tlieir abode was situated. 

The visit had taken longer than Lewis had expected, and on his 
return to the inn he found the coach would pass through in about 
lialf an hour. Snatching a hasty meal, he placed the papers in his 
valise, and in a few minutes was on his road to London. The 
coach stopped at an inn in Holborn, and here Lewis, wdio in his 
present state of mind was anxious to avoid a meeting with any of 
Ids friends, Frere himself not excepted, determined for the next few 
days to take up his abode : accordingly he engaged a sitting-room 
and bedroom, which, tor the sake ot privacy and cheapness, were 
situated at the back ot the house, at an altitude little inferior to that 
ot the neighboring chimney-pots. Having established himself in 
this uninvidng residence, he sat down to try and arrange some plan 
tor the future. He felt that he ought to write to Rose and his 
mother, and acquaint them with his altered destiny; but to do so 


328 


LEWIS ARUN13EL. 


involved an explanation which he shrunk tiom attempting, ile 
tried to read, but the only book at hand was a volume ot Schiller, 
and with a sickening feeling ot despair, he thjew it from him. At 
length he bethought him of Hardy s papers, and untying tlie string 
that bound them, he spread them on the table before him. The 
will, which he first examined, appeared formally drawn up, signed, 
and attested. The testator leLt property worth, as far as Lewis 
could make out, about £100 a year to Jane and Miles Hardy. Lay- 
ing this aside, he turned over a mass of smaller papers — old game 
certificates, receipts for rent, and among others, a note caret ully 
preserved, indorsed in a bold, free hand, “ The first letter 1 ever re- 
ceived from Harriet.’^ .It w^as an invitation, coquettishly worded, 

asking Hardy to join a party to the races; wTitten by her wiio 

had sinned so deeply, and had long since gone to give account ot 
the misery she had caused and sufiered. Lewis could uo\ look on 
this recoid ot aftection, which even the greatest wrong woman can 
do to man had been unable wholly to destroy, withoiu th(3 deepest 
commiseration. 

La 3 n'ng the note carefully aside, he took up the bundle of old 
letters, and selecting one which was partially opened glanced care- 
lessly at its contents, ^hy does he start and change color as his 
eye tails upon the handwriting? Why press his hand to his burn- 
ing brow as the momentary doubt crosses his mind wheiher all the 
mental anguish he has lately suffered can have unsettled hjs brain, 
on whether that which he beholds is indeed reality? Eage?ly does 
he devour the contents of the epistle; eagerly does he untold letter 
alter letter, till not one ot the packet remains unperiised. Again, 
sitting late into the night, does he read and reread their., then fold- 
ing them carefully, paces up and down the room chafing at the lazy 
hours that drag their weary lengtii, and oppose a barrier betvveen 
his wishes and the coming day, when he may act and resolve doubt 
into certainty. For the whole of tliat night, the second during 
which he had never closed an eyelid, did he measure with restless 
steps the narrow limits of the apartment. Leaving his breakfast 
untasted, he hurried, at the earliest business hour, to the chauibers 
of the family solicitor. For lialf the morning did' they remain 
closeted together — together did they seek the office (yclept by 
Richard Frere a den ot thieves) of Messrs. Jones & Levi, the law- 
yers who, as the reader may remember, addressed a mysterious 
letter to Lewis soon after his first arrival at Broadhurst. Carefully 
did the astute man of law examine and compare papers, and sift 
evidence, and draw out the crafty rogues with whom he had to 
deal: and when he had gamed all the information he required, 
steadily and cautiously did he examine the affair in all its bearings; 
nor was it till he had thoroughly made himself master of the subject 
that he approached Lewis, and shaking him heartily by the hand, 
exclaimed: “Well, my dear sir, as far as one can judge in this 
early stage of the proceedings, i think ,you have a very good case, 
and I beg to congratulate you on the prospect before you.” 

And what then was this prospect, at the mere possibility of which 
Lewis’s eye sparkled and bis cheek glowed with the brightness of 
renewed hopes? it was the prospect of inheiiting an ancient and 
honorable name, of gaining a position which would render him not 


329 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 

only equal, but superior in rank to Annie Grant, and of possessing 
an income beside which Lord Belletield’s fortune, impoverished by 
the turf and the gaming-table, sunk into comparative insignifi- 
cance. One short year more tor him to prove his rights betore the 
eyes of men, and then, if Annie were but true to Her own heart, 
he would boldly enter the lists against his rival, and in love or hate. 
Lord Bellefield should find that he had met his match. Well might 
his step be proud and his bearing joyous and elated, for in twelve 
hours the whole aspect of life had become changed to him. Such 
shuttlecocks are we in the hands of Fate, as unthinking men term 
the mysterious ordinances of tne Omnipotent. 

Had he known the contents of a letter which was even then 
awaiting him at his banker’s, his new-found joy might have been 
lessened. 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

CONTAINS MUCH SORROW AND PREPARES THE WAY FOR MORE. 

The letter to which reference was made ai the conclusion of the 
preceding chapter, and which Lewis received on the day following 
that on which he visited Mr. Coke, the family solicitor, proved to 
be from General Grant, and ran as follows: 

“ My Dear Young Friend,— for in that light 1 must, after the 
many important services you have rendered me, ever consider you 
— i am anxious to lose no time in forwarding to your account, at 

Messrs. , your salary for the year beginning May, 18—, and as 

you have been compelled by honorable feeling to throw up your 
appoint ment so unexpectedly, and may not be fortunate enough to 
meet immediately with another suited to your wishes, you will, 1 
feel sure, allow me, as some small testimony of the high esteem in 
which 1 hold you, to inclose a check for £503 instead of £300. I 
should feel hurt if you refuse to accept this token of my regard.’' 

“ Two hundred pounds for giving up his daughter. He would 
scarcely have bought me ofl so cheap if 1 had looked at the matter 
in a pecuniary point of view,” was Lewis’s ironical comment, as, 
with an inward resolution instantly to return the £200, he continued 
to peruse the letter. 

l>u will be glad to bear that Sir Walter bears your absence 
wonderfully well. Your kind consideration in leaving him the dog 
has produced a very good effect, as the animal serves to amuse him. 
We have not as yet been able to disabuse him of the notion that you 
will return, although I have impressed upon my daughter, who 
appears to have more influence with him than any other member 
of the family, the necessity of so doing. The mention of my 
daughter’s name leads me for the last time to touch upon a subject 
which 1 can conceive to be painful even to your well-disciplined 
mind During an interview 1 bad with her yesterday she expiessed 
her readiness to be guided entirelf by my wishes; with her full 
concurrence the engagement with Lord Bellefield was formally re- 


330 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


newed, and the marriage is to take place as soon as she comes ot 
aiie. J may add, that, as far as 1 am able to jud^e upon so delicate 
a point, 1 can not doubt that her intended bridegroom possesses tier 
warm and entire affect ion. You will not think me unnecessarily 
communicative, or careless of your feeliuirs, in mentioning these 
facts; but 1 conceive the Knowledge ot tnem may tend sooner to 
restore your mind to its usually healthy tone. Should you still be 
in England after my daughter’s marriage, 1 shall have much pleas- 
ure in seeing you, either at Broad hurst or in Park Crescent. Con- 
vey my respects to Mrs. and Miss Arundel, and believe me to re- 
main, yours sincerely and faithfully, 

“ Archibald Grant.” 

Lewis read the letter steadily to the end. With trembling lips 
and starting eyeballs did he reperuse it. He could not avert his 
gaze; it appeared to possess a species of horrible fascination for him; 
he tell as if his brain would buist, as if his reason were failing him. 
Annie loving Lord Bellefield, and allowing the engagement to be 
formally renewed— oh, it was impossible! he mitst be going mad; 
an evil which his worst tears pointed at only as a remote possibility, 
when time should have effaced his image, and the influence ot those 
around her have conquered her lingering scruples, come to pass ere 
the rosebud she had given him had withered on its stem! Why 
w^as it that the trial had become too great for him to bear— that his 
self-control had tailed — was it only the intensity ot his own feelings 
that he feared, or was it that he hoped, yet dreaded to learn, that ire 
w^as beloved? Did the sacrifice that he had made consist only ot 
his bve for her, or did the belief that he was relinquishing tlie cer- 
tainty of winning hers in return, add a redoubled bitterness to his 
self-renunciation? Were a thousand remembered words, looks, 
glances, realities, or the creations ot his morbid fancy? He rose and 
paced the room, as was his wont wdien deeply excited. Where 
should he seeK a clew to this mystery? Could he believe — the 
thought flashed like lightning through his brain, like lightning, 
searing as it passed — could he believe that he had again been duped 
by a coquette? Were all women false and heartless alike? Could 
the goodness, atnl innocence, and purity, which rendered beauty 
such as Annie’ H a link between earth and heaven, he mere counter- 
feits, and not the angel-instincts they appeared? Did good exist at 
all, or w’as this world an initiatory hell, and the evil principle pre- 
dominant? Were Annie untrue, truth itself might be but a great 
and s])ecions falsehood. 

From this chaos of passionate distraction a few clearer, but on 
•that account no less painful ideas began to evolve themselves. His 
new-found dream of joy had vanished : rank and fortune, valued 
only because they would bring him neaier to Annie, w’oiild become 
a tie and a burden without her — he would have none of them. For 
his mother and sister he would still labor; to support them was his 
first duly; in works which he must perform lay his only refuge 
against despair, perhaps even against madness. Tlu're was some- 
thing else; some promise he had made; what was it? His brain 
swam; he could recollect nothing clearly. Hastily removing his 
neckcloth, he plunged his head and face into a basin of cold water 


LEWIS AKUNLEL. 


331 


—this precaution in all probability saved him from a brain tevei. 
Having partially dried his streaming locks, and resumed his walk 
up and down the apartment, he remembered his promise to Hardy. 
Yes, that also was a sacred duty: the girl must be discovered, 
rescued from a life of infamy, separated forever from— and here he 
stopped abruptly, as a new idea occurred to him— Lord Btllefield! 
The retribution he had vowed to exact from him! He was now 
free, in a position to demand it! For a moment his eyes Hashed, and 
the fingers ot his right hand involuntarily closed, as if gi*asping a 
weapon, and then many conflicting thoughts crowded upon him, 
and the eyes sought Hie ground, and the fingers insensibly relaxed. 
If he provoked Lord Bellefield to meet him now, at this particidar 
juncture, would it not appear as it he were actuated solely by jeal- 
ousy of his more fortunate rival, as if his hopeless love for Annie 
were the cause of his animosity? This idea was especially repugnant 
to him for many reasons. In Uie first place he had argued himself 
into the belief that his resentment against Lord Bellefield was a 
just and reasonable feeling, and that in punishing him for the insults 
he had unmanly heaped upon him, he was only exacting a due pen- 
alty; it was by this subtle argument alone that he <?ould regard the 
act he contemplated as at all a justifiable one. Again, he considered 
that it would be completely beneath him to be jealous of Lord Belle- 
field. If Annie could Jove such a character, she was all unworthy 
Ms affection. Lastly, although he was scarcely himself aware of 
ihe feeling, and although a personal meeting with the object of his 
hatred, a contemptuous word or insolent look would in a moment 
have conquered it, he felt a natural repugnance to taking any step 
which might necessitate the possibility of shedding a fellow-mortars 
blood. To plan a duel d outrance, as a distant possibility, was one 
thing; to take measures coolly and deliberately to bring about such 
an event immediately was quite another affair. So, catching at the 
only gray spot among the blackness that surrounded him, he con- 
soled himself with the reflection that, as Annie would not be ot age 
till the expiration of two or three years, he might during that period 
contrive to }earn how far her heart was likely to go with her hand 
in the proposed alliance, and to regulate his conduct accordingly. 
Shaping his plans for the present in accordance with this resolve, 
he wrote sundi’y letters (one to General Grant, resoectfully declin- 
ing his present) more or less coherently, and then, going to bed in 
the frame of mind of one who 

“ Dotes yet doubts, suspects yet fondly loves,” 

must have been singularly fortunate if he enjoyed a very good 
night’s sleep. 

We must now take a retrospective glance at Broadhurst during 
the short space that had elapsed since Lewis quitted it, and learn 
how events, which have caused him such bitter grief, can have been 
brought about. 

’Tis the night of Lewis’s departure, and Annie Grant is at her 
( pen window gazing pensively at the moon, which moon, by the 
way, ’vwns at that identical moment lighting the old abbey and shin- 
ing on her lover’s throbbing brow, as he stood thinking of her be- 
side the ruined altar. Now Annie was by no means in a comforta- 


i 


332 


LEWIS ARUl^llEL. 

ble frame of iniud. In tlie first place she more than suspected that 
she was falling deeply in love, and in the second, the thing she 
loved ” had not exactly “ died,” but, what w^as quite as inconven- 
ient, and much more inexplicable, hail suddenly “ conveyed itself 
}iw\ay ” without telling her why or wherefoie. Lewis and Walter 
had of laie been in the habit ot spending Iheir evenings in the draw- 
ing-room, General Grunt considering that it w^as desirable to accus- 
tom the latter to the forms and habits of society; but on that even- 
ing they had not made their appearance as usual. Annie had in- 
quired of her aunt the reason of their absence. Miss Livingstone, 
looking like a very old vicious owl, replied, ‘‘ that leall}" she w'as 
the last person likely to know. General Grant was doubtless well 
informed on the subject, but he was always strangely, and, as she 
thought, most unnecessarily reserved; she believed Mr. Arundel 
had been driven to resign his situation, and she was not surprised; 
she did not know who, ihat could avoid it,, would reside in a family 
ordered about like a regiment of dragoons; she dared say Lord Belle- 
field had some broken do wm blackleg ready to recommend as tutor, 
to leach Walter gambling and borse-racing. Would Annie oblige 
her by looking under the sofa?^ She tliought she saw the shadow 
of a man’s foot against the chimney-piece; she expected they should 
all be murdered in their beds, now the only person able to defend 
them was driven aw^ay. Would Annie oblige her by ringing the 
hell? She wished to ascertain whether Robert had neglected to 
load the percussion cap of his blunderbuss.” ^^'oiled in this quarter, 
Annie w^aited till Lord Bellefield w’as so obliging as to stroll out in 
pursuit of a cigar, “smoking under difficulties ” being one of his 
most severe trials during a visit at Broadhurst. When he w^as gone 
she attacked her father with a direct inquiry as to what had become 
of Walter and Mr. Arundel. 

“Walter was in his own study; Mr. Arundel was absent,” was 
the reply. 

“ Absent,” returned Annie; “ why, wdiere is he gone, papa?” 

“ i did not inquire Mr. Aiundel’s intended route, my dear. His 
age and character lender him fully competent to regulate his owm 
movements,” was the stifi: response. 

Annie’s lip curled. “ Able to regulate his own movements!” She 
thought him fit to rule a universe. 

“ When is he coming back, papa?” 

“A — ahem! not at present, my dear; that is, in fact, you may 
consider his absence as permanent; the reasons for his departure 
which he imparted to me lead me to this conclusion.” 

“ Theie, 1 told you so; 1 said he was sent away,” observed Mi- 
nerva snappishly. 

“ Mad.im, you have been misinformed,” interposed the general, 
with much irritation; “ Mr. Arundel has not been sent away. He 
resigned his position as tutor to my ward of his own tree will, for 
reasons which I considered good and sufficient.” 

“ And what were these wonderful reasons if one might make bold 
to asa, without having one’s nose snapped oft?” inquired Minerva, 
curiosity and crossness combined overcoming her habitual fear of 
her august nephew-in-law. 

“ A — really 1 am not accustomed to be cross-queationed in this 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


333 


way. A^you. madam, strangely forget. However, 1 may as well 
mention once tor all, that 1 have Mr. Arnnciers authority for stat- 
ing that his reasons for quitting Broadhurst are purely ot a personal 
nature. And now do not let this subject be alluded to again i am 
the last person who should be accused ot driving him out of the 
family;” and having by this time worked himself up into a very 
considerable passion, in which frame ot mind he was, like most 
other ot his fellow-mortals, particularly unreasonable and incau- 
tious, he glanced furiously at poor innocent Annie, and strode out 
of the room like an offended autocrat, as he was. 

And this agreeable little scene termed the subject of Annie’s rev- 
erie, as. with her golden hair hanging like a veil around her, she 
watched the moonbeams sleeping on the velvet turf. Why had 
Lewis left them so suddenly? why, if her father knew tlie secret, 
did he refuse to reveal it? and still more strange, why should Lewis 
so scrupulously have concealed it from her? Then again, her father 
had appeared angry with her — could he suppose she had had any- 
thing to do with the young tutor’s departure? And then an idea 
struck her which even there alone, beneath the silent night, caused 
her face and neck to become suffused by a burning blush— could it 
be possible that she had betrayed herself, that Lewis had discovered 
her affection for him? And then she blushed yet more deeply at the 
plain words in which she had for the first time expressed, even to 
herself, her heart’s secret yearnings. The idea was painful in the 
highest degree to a mind of such child-like purity as Annie’s, and 
yet the more she thought of it, the more probable did it appear; it 
would account for everything that perplexed her. It she really had 
been so madly imprudent, so utterly deficient in maidenly reserve, 
as to allow Lewis to perceive the depth ot her regard tor him, his 
honorable feeling would instantly oblige him to leave the family, 
and no doubt her father’s cross-questioning had in some degree 
elicited from him the truth. Oh! what deep humiliation, regard it in 
whatever light she would! what bitter, endless misery ! Lewis’s calm 
manner, his gentle unimpassioned kindnesses, his late avoidance of 
her society, since — distracting thought!— since he had begun to per- 
ceive her regard, his stern resolve, so soon acted upon, to quit the 
taniily, all proved that her affection was not returned. Cruel deg- 
radation, to love a man who was indifferent to her, and to have 
allowed him to perceive it! Annie possessed a spice of her father’s 
haughty disposition, though, in general, the many essentially femi- 
nine points of her character prevented it tronr appearing; but this 
was an occasion which called forth every particle of pride in her 
nature. What could she do to remove this stain (tor such, in her 
morbid self-reproach, did she consider it) from her? Would lo 
Ileaveu she could lie down and die! Her fatlier, too, evident!}' sus- 
pected the truth; Lord Bellefield would probably be the next person 
to become acquainted with the disgraceful history, and with the 
recollection of her cousin’s name, a new idea fiashed across her. 
Yes, there was a way of escape, a method of silencing every busy 
tongue! But at what a sacrifice! Could she bring herself to consent 
to marry l^oid Bellefield, her object would be at once attained. No, 
sue felt it was impossible. But then, on the other hand, could she 
bear to labor under the suspicion ot loving, without return (there 


334 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


wa9 tlie bitter stiug), a man beneath her in station? She could re- 
member this difference now, when it wouhl add to her self -torment. 
Well, tortuuately she was not called on to decide the question at 
once; she would think more upon the matler; at all events there 
was the possibility to fall back upon as a last resource. Then her 
thoughts reverted to Lewis, the biave, the true, the noble-hearted! 
She should never see him again; he would achieve greatness — she 
felt as sure of that as if she had held in her hand the “ Gazette ” 
announcing his acceptance of the premiership— and some other 
would share it wiln him, while she should be the wife — the alterna- 
tive was too hateful to contemplate, so she substituted — in her grave. 
Yes, she should never see him again! And she recalled his imagj 
as on that summer day he had approached the window to summon 
her to the German lesson, when, as she read of Max Piccolomini, she 
had realized his appearance in tlie dark proud beauty of him wlio 
sat beside her. She remembered his joyous, animated look, as he 
bounded across the lawn, his glowing cheek, his bright, sparkling 
eye, the waving masses of his raven hair, and his eager, happy smile 
as his glance met hers. Two ideas engrossed her: he did not love 
her— she should never see him again; and forgetting her pride, her 
woman’s dignity, even her self-upbraiding, in the intensity of her 
sorrow, the poof child flung herself on her bed in an agony of tears, 
and poured forth the bitter desolation of a lonely, breaking heart. 

The next morning she pleaded a headache (a heartache wouhl have 
been nearer the truth) as an excuse for breakfasting in her room, 
and did not make her appearance till it was nearly luncheon time. 
During that meal the general was unusually dictatorial, not to say 
fractious, and more than once spoke so harshly to Annie that she 
had some diffic.ulty in repressing her tears. The meal was about 
halt concluded ere Lord Belletield, who excused himself by saying 
he had had some important letters to write, made his appearance. 
When at last he joined them, he did so apparently in the most 
amiable frame of mind. He received a reprimand from the general 
for his want of punctuality with a good-humored smile, and intro- 
duced a carefully veiled compliment into his apDlogy, wdiich greatly 
tended to soften that gallant veteran’s ill-temper; he interposed with 
skillful kindness to aveit sundry crabbed attacks, aimed by Miss 
Livingstone at poor Annie, and introduced some interesting topic 
which drew' out the elders and gave a new and agreeable turn to the 
conversation; he sympathized with Annie’s headache, for which he 
invented an equally opportune, plausible, and false excuse, and in 
short he laid himself out to fascinate, and succeeded a 7nerveille. 
Annie felt really grateful to him, for he had come to her rescue at a 
moment in which kindness and sympathy were peculiarly acceptable 
to her. 

When luncheon was concluded the general requested his daughter’s 
presence in the library, Poor Annie rose to obey him. A strange, 
wild idea seized her that he might be going to refer to Lewis’s de- 
parture, perhaps to upbraid her tor her share in causing it, and she 
trembled so violently that her knees almost refused to support her; 
in a moment Lord Bellefield was at her side. 

“ Take my arm,” he said kindly; ” the effects of your headache 
have scarcely passed away even yet.” Annie accepted his arm in 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


335 


grateful silence, and in her guileless gentleness of heart accused her- 
self of never having done proper justice to her cousin’s kindly nat- 
ure. As they approached the library he detained her. 

“ Dear Annie,” he said, ‘‘ it woulil be affectation on my part to 
pretend ignorance of the subject on which your father is about to 
converse with you. The general appears for some cause, which L 
am not able to divine, especially irritable this morning. Do not op- 
pose him unnecessarily, and should he chance to urge my cause un- 
gently, remember, dear one, how. entirely my future happiness is 
involved in your decision.” As he ceased speaking, h3 opened the 
library door, without giving her an opportunity to reply, then lead- 
ing her in, pressed her hand, cast toward her an appealing glance, 
and turning, quitted the room. Lord Bellefield was a good tacti- 
cian. For the first time the idea crossed Annie’s mind : ‘‘ He loves 
me then,” and contrasting his devotion with Lewis’s supposed in- 
difference, she pitied him. Could she have seen his change of 
countenance as the door closed upon him, she would scarcely have 
done so. His look was that of some fientl who had compassed the 
destruction of a human soul,, the personification of triumphant 
malevolence. 

'I he general began his haiangue. He informed Annie that she 
was no longer a child, and so far he was right; but he did not add, 
as he might have done, had he been as well acquainted with the 
workings of her mind as w’e happen to be, that the last twenty-four 
hours had performed the work of years to effect the change from 
the thoughtless child to the thinking, teeling woman, for the first 
time cognizant of those fearful realities, life and love! But if the 
worthy general said nothing of love, he soon discoursed at great 
length of (we w’ere about thoughtlessly to add) its usual termination, 
marriage; wdiich institution he looked upon solely in a military 
point of view, viz., as a solemn alliance between two poweis for 
their mutual benefit. Having given his oiatorical powers a good 
breathing canter around (as he attempted to depict them) the flow^ery 
meads of matrimony, he gradually narrowed his circle till he was 
ambling about his daughter’s proposed union with Lord Bellefield, 
and having by this time pretty well exhausted his eloquence, he 
dashed at once in medias res, by inquiring whether she knew any 
just cause or impediment wherefore the engagement, broken off by 
him on the ground of her cousin’s falsely suppostd misconduct, 
should not there and then be renewed, with a view, at the fitting 
time, i.e,, as soon as she should attain the age of twenty-one, to 
their becoming man and wife. To this Annie replied, wdth down- 
cast looks snd many blushes, that if her father had no objection, she 
had made up her mind to live and die an old maid, she wars going 
to add, like Aunt Martlia, but, on second thoughts, doubting 
whether the association of ideas was likely to aid her cause, she re- 
pressed the simile. To this the gtneral merely said ” Pish!” and 
took suuff contemptuously; so Annie tried another tack. 

” If ever,” she observed, ” she were to marry, it must be a great 
niany.years hence. She was such a careless, silly little thing, not at 
all fit to manage a family. Did not papa remember when she went 
with him and Charles Leicester on the grouse-hunting expedition, 
and their cottage was fifteen miles from everywhere, how she forgot 


336 


LEWIS AKUXDEL. 


to take any tea and sugar, and they were obliged to drink whisky- 
and- water tor bieakfast for nearly a week?” 

But to this papa turned a deaf ear, and showed such unequivocal 
signs of being about to get .into a rage, that Annie in despair fell 
back upon her last argument, which was that, although her Cousin 
Bellefield was very kind to liei, and she had always looked upon 
him and Charles Leicester as her brothers, yet she did not like J)im 
well enough to wish to marry him. ‘‘ She was sure it was wicked 
to inairy any one unless 3 'ou loved him better— than anybody else,” 
she was going to say; hut she changed it to, ” than she loved Adol- 
phus.” Thereupon the general’s anger, scarcely hitherto controlled, 
burst fonh, and he informed her, with great volubility, that she 
had spoken the truth when she had called herself silly, for that her 
whole argument was so childbli and absurd that he was perfectly 
ashamed of it and of her; and that it she chose to talk and act so 
childishly, she must expect to be treated as a child, and submit to 
the decision of those who were older and wiser than herself— that 
he would give her five minutes to leconsider the matter, and if she 
then refused to consent to a renewal of the engagement, he should 
begin to fear that she must have some unworthy reason lor such 
continued obstinac^y. And as lie uttered the last cruel words, he 
fixed his little sharp eyes upon her as if he were trying to look her 
through and through. For a moment his reproach roused somewhat 
of his own spirit in his daughter, and drawing herself up proudly, 
the girl confronted him with flashing eyes and heaving bosom; and 
then, poor child! the consciousness of her secret attachment rushed 
upon her, and with streaming e 3 "es she threw herself at his feet, ex- 
claiming; ” .1 am very foolijih — very wicked. Dearest papa, for- 
give me, and 1 will do wliatever 3^011 wish!” 

And thus it came about that the engagement with Lord BellefieUl 
w^as so speedil 3 ^ renewed. • 


CHAPTER L. 

VINDICATES THE ArilOIlISM THAT ” ’TIS AN ILL WIND WHICH 
BLOWS NO ONE ANY GOOD.” 

Btchakd Frere sat at his breakfast-table; before him stood an 
egg, untasted, which, having once been hot, was so no longer, 
w'hile a cup of coDee that had undergone the same refrigerating 
process threw out its fragrance unrewarded. In his hand w^as an 
open letter. We will take the liberty of peeping over his slioulder, 
and making our readers acquainted with its contents; the 3 ’ w^ero as 
follows: 

” Dear Frere, — 1 have quitted Broadhurst forever, and broken 
oft all connection between General Grant and myself. ^Vhy 1 have 
done this 1 can not tell you now. Tears hence, when time shall 
have seared w^ounds which now bleed at the slightest touch of mem- 
ory, you shall know all. 1 have suffered, and must suffer, much; 
but suffering appears identical with existence — at least in this pres- 
ent phase of being. 1 am ill in mind and body: the restless spirit 
within is at length beginning to tell upon even my iron constitution. 


LEWIS ARUXDEL. 


337 


The mind must have rest if 1 would continue sane; the body must 
be braced by exertion if 1 wish not to degenerate into a mere nerv- 
ous hypochondriac. Accordingly, when you receive this lettei, 1 
shall have quitted England. My project— it such vague ideas as 
mine describe the title— embraces a walking tour through Europe, 
which may possibly be extended to Syria and Persia, should my ob- 
ject not be previously attained. At my banker’s lies the sum of 
£500 — the wages (minus the little my traveling expenses will re- 
quire) ot my two years’ slavery; before that is exhausted, fresh 
funds will be placed at the disposal ot my mother and sister, or 1 
shad be dead— in either case, 1 leave my family as a sacred deposit 
to your care. Dear old Frere, do not judge me harshly. 1 nrn not 
(if 1 know my own motives) acting with selfish rashness in this 
matter. My whole being, intellectual and physical, has received a 
tearful shock, and the course 1 propose to pursue appears to otter 
the only chance of a restoration to a healthy frame of mind, i 
could not do this did 1 not know that in you my mother and Rose 
will find a more efficient protector than the one they will lose for a 
season; 1 could act do this did I not love you so well as to have 
perfect faith in your friendship in the very highest sense of the 
word. Enough on this head— we hiiow each other. In the unlike- 
ly event ot pecuniary difficulty arising, apply to Mr. Coke, the 
solicitor, in Lincoln’s Inn. He has my directions also, in case of 
any accident befalling me, and from lime to time he will be in- 
formed of my whereabouts, as, loi at least the next year, I shall not 
write to any of you; it is my wish to forget that such a country as 
England exists. 1 inclose a note for poor Rose. May 1 ask you to 
deliver it in person, and break this mtdter to her and my mother? 
As yet they are not even aware that 1 have quitted Broadhurst. 
God bless you, and good-bye for — but we will not pry into the fut- 
ure. ‘ Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.' 

“ Yours ever, 

“Lewis Arundel.” 

This letter Frere read carefully through; having done so, he 
ejaculated, “Well!” in a tone of the utmost astonishment; then, 
pushing his hair back from his forehead as if he sought to give his 
intellectual powers freer play, he steadily reperused it, but appar- 
ently with little better success; for when he had a second time ar- 
rived at the signature, he gazed round the room with an expression 
of the most intense perplexity, exclaiming. “ I never read such a 
letter — utter 

Spreading the paper before him, he carefully turned up his 
wristbands, seized a silver butter-knife, which in his abstraction he 
believed to be a pen, felt the point to see if it would write, dipped 
it into the milk by way of ink, and thus prepared, again attacked 
the in 3 ^stcrious document, sentence by sentence keeping up during 
this third reading a running fire of comments somewhat after the 
following fashion: 

“Hum! well! he's left Broadhurst forever, etc., etc., and he 
can’t tell me why now, but will years hence— when he has forgotten 
all the minute particulars which would make the affair intelligible, 
1 suppose. Sensible, ver}^ Thrown away three hundred pounds 


338 


LEWIS ARU^iTDEL. 


a year, with a mother and sister depending upon him and ' no fut- 
ure prospects/ as they say in all the ‘ shocking destitution’ adver- 
tisements. O, wise young judge! Well, nev^er mind. ‘Sealed 
wounds— existence identical witli sutlering — restless spirit affecting 
iron constitution/ mm multis aliis, etc. Now, all that, done into 
plain English, means that he has got into a state of mind which, 
interfering with the gastric juices and all the other corporeal chem- 
icals, has put his digestion out ot sorts; ergo, in order to repair dam- 
ages, he has started on a continental walking tour. Might have 
done worse; the peristaltic motion will settle the dyspepsia in double 
quick time; I’m doctor enough to know llial. Then he leaves five 
hundred pounds to support one mother and sister till turther notice, 
or till 1 receive intelligence of his untimely decease. In the mean- 
time, he very obligingly commits the live stock aforesaid to my 
care, as a sacred deposit; so, without being allowed so much as even 
a voice in the matter, 1 suddenly find myself plus a molhei and sis- 
ter. More peculiar than pleasant, ehr Well, never mind. Then 
he asserts the truism that he could not do this without faith in my 
friendship, mentioning the unnecessary fact that we know each other. 
Next comes a very' tunny idea: if the money runs short, I’m to 
apply to a Umyer, ot all people in the world. Now, in my inno- 
cence, 1 should have fancied just the reverse, and that it we had 
been burdened with more cash than we knew what to do with, the 
lawyer would have been the boy to help us out of tin* ditticuliy! 
Weil, one lives and learns. What have we next? Oh! my young 
friend wishes to forget the existence of— England! nothing more — 
wishes to forget the existence of his owm glorious couutr^M The 
boy’s as mad as a March hare. Then he very coolly hands over to 
me the pleasant task of breaking the news ot his most uncomforta- 
ble conduct to his lett-oft mother and sister; and for the prospective 
performance of all this toil and trouble, he benevolently blesses me, 
and adducing a test of Scripture, which applies much more to my 
case tuan to his own, concludes. 

“ Well, I should just like anybody to explain to me the meaning 
of that letter; lor, as to making out either what he has done, oi 
what he is going to do, from that document, I’d defy (Edipus him- 
self to accomplish it. Now, let me see what is the first article in 
my little list of commissions: enlightening our mother and sister, 1 
suppose; and a very hazy style of illumination 1 expect it wdl be, 
unless sister's note should happen to throw some brightness on the 
matter. ‘ Poor Rose!’ He may w^ell say poor! Why, she dotes on 
him —actually dotes on him. I'd give anything in the world to have 
her — that is, to have a sister love me as tiiatgiil loves him. I know 
she will be miserable, I’m certain of it;” and sticking the hntter- 
knite behind his ear, a place in which he still retained tlie school- 
boy habit of putting his pen, Frere rose from his seat and resuming 
his soliloquy, began to pace the room with hasty strides. 

*' What can have induced the boy to throw up his appointment 
in this insane fasliion, 1 can’t conceive. If it were any one else, 1 
should fancy he had misconducted himself, and that the rhapsod- 
ical letter was merely an excuse for avoiding a plain statement ot a 
disgraceful truth; hut there’s somethiug about Lewis Arundel 
which mak(s one certain he’d never commit a small sin or conceal 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


839 


a large one. If he had murdered that scamp Bellefield in a duel, he 
would have mentioned it directly. Perhaps old Grant has insulted 
his dignity; Arcades ambOy they’re a peppery pair: ‘ high-stomached 
are the}^ both and full of ire.’ The elder gentleman has a double 
claim, literal and metaphoiical, to the quotation, if 1 remember his 
build rightly. Poor Lewis! 1 expect he is in a dreadful state of 
mind. 1 should feel very sorry for him if 1 were not so angry with 
him for bothering Rose in this way. Well, i must think about 
starting; no science shop for me to-day, or to-morrow either. By 
the bye, I must ring for Jemima, and enlighten her as to my move- 
ments, and she’ll be as cantankerous as a bilious crocodile, 1 ex- 
pect. FTowever, it must be done, so here goes;” and giving the bell 
a very modest pull, he dropped into his reading-chair, awaiting the 
arrival of his acidulated tlomestic with a singularly mild, not to 
say timid, expression of countenance. 

” Oh, Jemima, i rang— -that is to say, the bell rang — to tell you 1 
am obliged to go out of town to-day, and shall not return till to- 
morrow evening at the earliest,” began Frere, in an apologetic tone 
of voice, as his ancient duenna, puffing and blowing from the as- 
cent of the staircase, entered. 

As she spoke the positively cross expression of her antique feat- 
ures advanced a degree, and became comparatively Grosser, as she 
replied with a toss of the head : 

‘‘Well, I’m sure! What next, 1 wonder?” Then, addressing 
her master in a tone of withering contempt, she continued: ” i)o 
you know what it is you’re a-sayin’ of, Master Richard?” 

‘‘ Well, 1 believe 1 do,” returned Frere humbly. 

”1 believe you don’t,” was the unceremonious rejoinder. ” 1 
believe you go on reading them foreign books in heathen Greek till 
you don’t know what 5mu’re a saying or a doing of. Here you tell 
me one thing one day, and something liarmetrically contradictious 
of it the next, till old Nick his blessed self wouldn’t know how to 
act to please you!” 

” Why, what have I s.iid contradictious, as you call it?” inquired 
Frere. 

” What have you said?” repeated Jemima, in a tone of disgust; 
‘‘ why, you told me to get dinner ready tor six this very day, and 
now you say you’re a going out of town, and won’t be back till to- 
morrow night. Do you call that behaving as a master of a house 
ought to do, let alone a sanatory Christian.” 

” A true bill, bv all that’s unlucky,” muttered Freie. 

” It’s a true bill that you’ll have to pay, for as fine a couple of 
chickens as ever was trussed, which is now cast away before 
swine, for as to ’em keeping till the day after to-morrow, it’s a 
model of impossibilitude ” 

” 1 should rather have thought a physical one,” suggested Frere, 
soiio wee. 

” Then there’s a tongue;” continued Jemima, unheeding the inter- 
ruption— ‘‘as beautiful a one as ever 1 set my two eyes on.” 

‘‘ 1 wonder it it’s as long as her own,” observed Frere, specula- 
tively pursuing the undercurrent of his piivate annotations. 

*‘ A tongue that with care and good carving would have lasted 
you for breakfast tor a fortnight.” 


840 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


“ Then it would not have gone by any means so fast as a certain 
unruly member with which 1 am acquainted,” continued the com* 
mentator. 

” Together with a lovely turbot, which 1 a’most had to go down 
on my bencied knees to gt out of the fishmongrr, turbots being like 
pearls of price at this time of year, with tliree dozen of natives which 
was astonished not to be able to procure, so was forced to put up with 
lobster sauce instead, and a beauty it is now, though it will be non 
compo scentis by the day after to-morrow and fit only to make peo- 
ple sick in the dusthole where it’s a sin to let it go with so many 
poor starving creatures a wanting it, which was not the case when 
your blessed mother was upon the earth in a violent satin gownd a 
setting you mond copies, ‘ A woeful waist makes willful want,’ and 
‘ My name is Norval on the Grumpy Hills,’ which ought to have 
taught you better than to have asked live friends to come here look- 
ing like fools and yourself the sixth goneout of town, leaving me to 
tell ’em so, with the house full of good things all turning bad and 
nobody but me to eat ’em, which is a hard trial for an aged woman 
that taking you from the month ought to be respected if gray hairs 
is honorable, which they don’t seem to be nowadays when we’ve 
got a bad lot of wigs over our heads with halt of ’em nothing in 
’em but crimped horse-hair, 1 do believe.” 

Here the worthy woman’s breath failing lier, Krere was at length 
able to get in a word or twm. 

” My good Jemima,” he began, blandly, ‘‘ listen to me. 'When I 
invited my friends and ordered a dinner 1 was of course not aware 
that 1 should be suddenly called upon to leave town. Such being 
the case, how'ever, w^e must make the best ( f it. 1 will therefore 
dispatch notes to the ffentlemen who were to have been my guests 
putting them oft: and in regard to the comesiibles, such as from 
their animal fabric reiiuire cooking must be cooked, and we must, 
endeavor to consume them in detail at — at our earliest convenience. 
Now have I slain your Hydra, my good Jemima?” 

”1 don’t understand your gibberish, Master Richaid, nor don’t 
want to. My poor dear mistress, which piously departed this life 
in a mahogany coffiu and silver nails, didn’t used to talk so, though 
she’d been brought up at boarding-school with the best of pastors 
and masters to honor and obey; but this 1 know, that the blessed 
dinner wu’ll go to rack and ruin in spite of all your cooking retail 
combustibles, and that puts me in mind, what have you been doing 
with your beakfast? Why, goodness, gracious! lie’s never touched 
a bit of it! and ” (here she caught sight of the butter knife) ‘‘ oh 
lur’, oh, lor’! if he ain’t gone clean demented. What’s the mat- 
ter?” she continued, as Frere, astonished at her unusual vehemence, 
sought to learn the cause of her disquietude; ” what’s the matter 
indeed? Look in the glass, and if you’re ht for any place but Bed- 
lam, you’ll soon see what’s the matter.” 

Thus apostrophized, E’rere turned bis eyes in the unwonted direc- 
tion of the chimney-glass, and there descrying the butter- knife, was 
somewhat disconcerted, and muttering that it must have got there 
by accident, of its owm accord, instead of a pen, he felt that his posi- 
tion w^as quite untenable, and so, retreating igmminiously to the 
stronghold of his own bedroom, he busied himself iu preparation 


LEWIS ARUI^DEL. 


341 


ior liis departure, actually going the length of shaving himself, and 
putting on a decent suit of clothes. Another half hour saw him on 
his road to . 

It was on the afternoon of the same day, that Rose Arundel sat at 
the window of their little drawing-room, sketching the tower of an 
old church which peeped prettily troni amid a luxuriant group of 
giant elms. Mrs. Arundel had gone in a friend’s carriage to execute 
a host of minor commissions at a neighboring town, and Rose, hav- 
ing written part of her quota for the next month’s magazine, was 
rewarding her industry by endeavoring to catch a peculiar effect of 
sunlight on the tower aforesaid. Having worked with biush and 
pencil for some minutes, she paused to criticise her drawing. It 
was a faithful copy of the landscape before her, nicely executed, 
but she shook her bead in dissatisfaction. “It is laboied and 
tame,” she said; “ half a dozen touches from Lewis’s pencil would 
have given the effect twice as well. What a strange thing is the 
power of genius, the hand creating at a touch the brilliant concep- 
tions of the mind;” and then she drew out some of her brother’s 
sketches in Germany — bold, free, spirited, and marked by refined, 
severe laste, skilled alike to select the telling points and reject the 
commonplace details, save where such details were required to as- 
sist in carrying out the leading idea, they all bore indisputable evi- 
dence of a tiue artist mind. 

From the sketches Rose grew to think of him who liad traced 
them. She had not heard from Lewis tor quite three weeks, and 
his last letter had indicated a mind ill at ease, and Rose had written 
to him to entreat him to confide in her if, as she feared, he was uii- 
happy. Why did he not reply to her letter? Answering her ques- 
tion with a sigh, she turned again, pencil in hand, to the window, 
and perceived a gentleman advancing rapidly along the road leading 
to their cottage. For a moment her pulse beat quickly; could it be 
her brother? Hut Lewis’s was a figure not easily to be mistaken, 
and a second glance convinced her she was wrong; and then she 
gave a little start and a bright blush made her look so pretty that it 
was quite a shame nobody was there to see her. Had there been, 
perhaps she would not have turned to the glass, and, still blushing 
and smiling, smoothed the glossy bands of her rich brown hair, 
why she performed this ceremony at that particular moment we 
leave our female readers to discover, and having done so, of their 
courtesy to enlighten us. Then, like a puritanical little hypocrite 
as she was, she reseated herself at her drawing-table, sketching 
away as zealously as if the results of and bandoline had been 
as little known to the philosophy of the nineteenth century as is the 
seciet of alchemy. 

In another minute the full rich tones of a man’s voice were heard, 
bearing down the shrill expostulations of Rachel: 

“ Never mind about your mistress, young woman; where’s Miss 
Rose?” 

“ Upstairs, sir; but — ” 

“ There, that’ll do; ‘ but me no buls;’ let me get by. Which is 
the door? Here we are.” 

And as he uttered the last words Prere, tired and dusty, with a 
carpet-bag and a parcel of books in one hand, and his hat and the 


342 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


umbrella in the other, entered the little drawing-room. Rose ad- 
vanced to receive him with a bright smile. 

“ This is an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Phere,” she said, extending 
her hand. P^rere shook it heartily, squeezing it in the process much 
harder than was agreeable. 

“ Why, how prelt— a— 1 mean to say, how well you are looking,” 
he began. “ Country air suits you better than the pea-soup-coloied 
atmosphere of London.’' 

So unable did he appear to remove his eyes from her face that, in 
spite of her best endeavors, the becoming blush again overspread 
her features. Turning away as if for the purpose of arranging her 
drawing materials, she observed: 

“ Mamma is taking a drive with a friend; I’m afraid she won’t 
return just yet.” 

‘‘ So much the better,” began Frere; then, perceiving the rude- 
ness of the remark, he continued: ” lyiiat 1 mean is, that 1 want to 
talk to you about a letter I’ve received from Lewis, and I can get 
on better with you than with mamma, 1 expect. You and I under- 
stand each other, you see. Now^ Mrs. Arundel thinks I’m a bear 
or thereabouts, and fit for nothing but growling and biting.” 

‘‘ Perhaps 1 think the same,” remarked Rose, smiling at this un- 
expected proof of his penetration. ” But you spoke of a letter from 
Lewis. I’m so glad he has written to you, for it is three weeks 
since I’ve heard from him. You are looking grave,” she added, 
hurriedly; lh(n, becDming suddenly alarmed, she continued: ” Some- 
thing has happened to him, and you have come to break it to us — is 
it not so?” 

Frere regarded her with a good-natured smile, half laughing at, 
half pitying her, then holding up his finger, as if he were rebuking 
an impetuous child, he said: 

” How thoroughly woman-like and unreasonable, jumping to a 
conclusion without any sufficient data to go upon; selecting the 
most dolorous hypothesis imaginable, and then preparing to atllict 
yourself at sight of the phantom your own fancy has conjured up. 
Now,” he continued, taking her hand and half leading, half urging 
her to the sofa, ” sit down, listen quietly to what 1 have to tell you, 
think the matter over with your usual good sense, and tlien we’ll 
consult together as to the best course to pursue, and if anything 
useful and expedient can be devised, rely upon me to execute it.” 

Pale and trembling, but in every other respect collected. Rose 
obeyed. As soon as she was seated Frere placed himself by her 
side, and drawing out Lewis’s letter, said: 

‘‘ Your brother has left Broadhurst, and thrown up his tutorship. 
His reasons for so doing he has not explained to me; but as he evi- 
dently wrote in a state of considerable mental agitation, that may 
account for the omission. Moreover, he promises to tell me all at 
some future time; he sends also a note for jmu, which may, per- 
haps, throw more light upon the matter. Here it is.” 

So saying he produced the inclosure, and breaking the seal, hanrl- 
ed it to Rose. It ran as follows: 

” Do not fancy me unkind, dearest Rose, or insensible to the bles^ 
ing (almost the only one now left me) of your affection, when, at 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


343 

this miserable crisis of my fate, 1 deny myself the consolation o^ 
your sympathy; 1 say den}’’ myself, for wretched as 1 am, torn as is 
my soiil by the blackest unbelief in ihe existence ot human truth 
and goodness, I believe you to be good and true, and 1 love you 
more entirely than 1 have ever done. Phere will tell you that 1 am 
even now, as you read these words, upon a foreign soil; the length 
of my self-imposed exile is as yet unfixed, but many months must 
elapse ere 1 shall again visit England. Had 1 come to you 1 could 
not have withheld my confidence; j^our sympathy would have 
utterly unmanned me; 1 should have lost the little strength and self- 
reliance remaining to me, and have totally succumbed to the blow 
that has fallen upon me. Rose, love, at times 1 fancied, when you 
were staying in Rarh Crescent, that you divined my secret. The 
struggle was then going on. and 1 dreamed in my folly that self- 
conquest was attainable; thus madly have 1 accomplished the ruin 
of my happiness. 1 have quitted Broadhurst by my own act— fled 
to preserve my honor; that and an aching heart are all that rennuu 
to me. 1 trust to you and Prere to communicate this matter to my 
mother. Ot course should you from my broken hints divine the 
truth, you would never ctream of imparting it to her; a thousand rea- 
sons forbid it. In regard to Prere, 1 leave you to judge; he is trust- 
worthy as yourself. If he smile at rny tolly in loving so poor a 
thing "as he holds woman to be, his kind heart will sympathize 
with my wretchedness, even if my own weakness has produced it. 
1 have intrusted him to pay my mother the usual yearly allowance, 
and placed funds at his disposal to enable him to do so. ^Vhile 1 
live she and you shall never know greater poverty than you endure 
at present. 1 go to regain in foreign travel the vigor ot mind and 
body which this blow has well nigh paralyzed. Thank God in your 
prayers that He has spared my reason, and left me strength to make 
this effort. May He watch over you both! In all diflicuUies apply 
to Richard Frerc. Good bye, dearest. P'^orgive me the sorrow i 
occasion you; it seems as thougli 1 were fated alike to suffer myself 
and to cause suffering to all 1 love. Youis ever affectionately, 

“Lewis.^^ 

Rose perused her brother's letter eacrerly; as she proceeded her 
bright eyes filled with tears. Frere waited until she had concluded, 
and then without speaking handed her the epistle he himself had 
receiv(d. When she had also finished this, he inquired: “Well, 
what do you make of it— anything?” 

Rose turned away her head, and drying her eyes, replied with a 
deep sigh: “ four fellow, it is only too clear.” 

“ That's about the very last remark now that 1 should have ex- 
pected any one to make after having read that letter. What a thing 
it is to be clever!” observed Frere. 

Without noticing his observation. Rose placed in his hand Lewis’s 
letter to herself. Frere read it with a gradually elongating counte- 
nance, ineiely pausing to mutter: “ Much he knows about my 
opinion ot women.” 

Having finished it, he refolded it carefully, and handing it back 
to Rose, began: “ This enlightens us in some degree as to the mat- 


344 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


ter: Lewis has, it seems, fallcD in love as they call it, disastrously, 
with some party unknown.” 

“Oh, you ca\i not doubt to whom he refers,” exclaimed Rose 
earnestly. “ It is this to which my fears have pointed ever since 1 
first beheld her. Thrown inio constant communication with such 
a creature, one fitted — ” 

*' \Vh, you don’t mean to say he’s fallen in love with Miss Liv- 
ingstone?” interrupted Prere, looking the very picture of astonish- 
ment. 

“ This is scarcely a subject on which it is kind to jest, Mr. Prere,” 
rejoined Rose, almost sternly; “of course 1 refer to that gentle, 
lovely, fascinating Annie Grant.” 

“ 1 do assure you 1 was perfectly serious,” returned Prere, has- 
tily. “ 1 wouldn’t joke about anything that makes you unhappj^ if my 
life depended upon it; but 1 never dreamed of its being Annie Grant. 
Why she’s engaged to her unpleasant cousin. Lord Belletield.” 

“ 1 thought the engagement was broken off,” observed Rose. 

“ Ay, but it’s on again,” resumed Prere. “ 1 met a man yester- 
day who is one of Bellefield’s intimates, and he told me that his 
lordship was staying at Broadhurst — that he has made up his feud 
with the fieneral, and that the engagement has been formally re- 
newed.” 

“Now, then, 1 see it all,” exclaimed Rose. ‘ Poor Lewis has 
been long struggling against a deep attachment for that sweet Annie, 
whom none could know without loving; nourishing, perhaps halt 
unconsciously, a secret hope that she was not wholly indiflerent to 
him, a hope which to an honorable mind like his must have brought 
more pain than pleasure. And now this renewal of the engagement 
must have proved to him how entirely he was mistaken, and, un 
able to witness his rival’s triumph, he has, as he tells me, tied the 
spot where each kind word from Annie and every haughty glance 
from Lord Bellefield would have been like a dagger to his heart. 
No wonder the mental coflict has nearly maddened him, my poor, 
poor Lewis.” 

Preoccupied by her sympathy for her brother’s sorrow, Rose did 
not observe the effect her words had produced upon Prere; nor was 
ii till he spoke in a low deep voice which trembled with suppressed 
feeling, that she observed his emotion. 

“ Ay,” he said, moie as it communing with his own spirit, than 
as though he were addressing her, “ ay, it must be a hard thing to 
love, with all the depth of such a passionate nature as Lewis’s, one 
who is indifferent to him; but it is a more bitter thing still to see 
the long years gliding by and to pass from boyhood to youth, and 
from youth to manhood, and to find middle age stealing quickly 
upon you, and never to have had any human being to love you — 
never to have found any heart on which you might pour out the 
riches of affection, which every generous nature pants to bestow.” 
He paused; then, as the recollections he had excited, seemed to 
crowd upon him, continued: “ Oh, the bitter tears I have shed 
when, scarcely more than a child, 1 have wept to hear other boys 
tell of happy homes, and a mother’s love, and the affection of 
brothers and sisters^ then came the silent but more enduring sorrow 
of youth, when tears can no longer form a vent for the heart’s 


LEWIS AliUKDEL. 


345 


Isolation, and the lestless spirit preys upon itself, and last the strug- 
gle of maturer manhood, which in its meridian strength contends 
against the sorrows of its weaker morning, and strives to live down 
the fruitless longing for that affection which it can not attain, and 
conquering all but the one abiding grief, remains to own itself still 
lonely-hearted, and sees its only hope of comfort in the grave. Ay, 
this is grief which the help of God alone can enable one to endure.” 

The deep feeling, the simple manly pathos with which he spoke, 
were more than Rose, or any true woman could hear unmoved. Lay • 
ing her hand on his to attract his attention, she said, in a sweet 
gentle voice: 

” Indeed, Mr. Frere, you do your friends injustice. Lewis loves 
you as a brother; my dear father had the warmest affection for you, 
and often said that ff Lewis did but resemble you, if he proved as 
high-principled, as kind-hearted, and as persevering, his dearest 
wishes would be fulhlled; even 1 myself — ” she paused, glancing 
timidly at her companion; but as be remained with his hand pressed 
upon his biow, apparently buried in abstraction, she gathered cour- 
age and continued: 

” Even 1 feel that in you God has given me a second brother, and 
that 1 should be most ungrateful, most unworthy such disinterested 
kindness as you have invariably shown me, did 1 not feel the warm- 
est esteem — and— gratitude — 

And here, suddenly becoming aware that Frere’s eyes were fixed 
upon her, with the same peculiar expression of delight which she 
had once before observed in them on the occasion of his telling her 
how he had convinced Rasper the irascible of the evil of dueling, 
poor Rose’s eloquence failed her and she became abruptly silent. 
Frere paused for a moment and then, with a forced calmness which 
scarcely veiled the depth of his emotion, said: 

” Dear Rose, forgive me if 1 am about to cause you pain; but 
your kindness has afforded me a vision of such exquisite happiness 
that it would be a source of endless reproach to me, if, through any 
reserve on my part, 1 failed to realize it. Rose, you can not be my 
sister, but can, if you will, hold a tar dearer title — you can become 
my honored wife. 1 have loved you long, although it was my sor- 
row at your depaiture from Loniion wdiich first opened my eyes to 
the miture of my feelings. Since then my sense of my own un- 
worthiness to aspire to the joy of possessing such an angel has alone 
kept me silent. Rose, I know my own presumption in thus ad- 
dressing you: I am aware only too painfully of my own uncoiith- 
ness, my deficiencies in all the polished conventionalities of life; 
but it the deepest, tenderest devotion of a heart which has pined 
through a life-time tor some object on which to pour forth its treas- 
ures of love, can make you happy: it you thiuK that m time you 
could in some degree return my affection — ” 

” Oh, hush, hush!” interrupted Rose in a broken, laltering voice; 
” 1 can not bear to hear you speak thus! If, good and noble as you 
are, my love can indeed make you happier—” 

She could not conclude her sentence, but Frere seemed perfectly 
satisfied with the fragmentary sentence as it stood. 

The result of ihe inter riew may best be gathered from the follow- 
ing remark of Mrs. Arundel, who, returning home about an hour 


346 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


af(er the occiirrence of the conversation above relatert. declared that 
when she came in she found, to her horror and astonishment, “ urtai 
major all but hugging Kose, and. stranger still, Rose appearing 
rather Haltered by the attention than otherwise.” 


CHAPTER LI. 

TREATS OF A METAMORniOSIS NOT DESCRIBED BY OYID. 

We must now request our readers to diaw on the seven-leagued 
bools of their imagination, and, thus accoutered, to stride remorse- 
lessly over tlie space of two years. ’Tis soon done— a slight mental 
effort, an agile hop, skip and jump of the fancy, and the gulf is 
passed — time is annihilated. Let us raise the curtain, and mark the 
changes the destroyer has w^rouglu. The world goes round much 
the same as it did before; two years make little difference in the 
pei’sonal appearance of the fifty-eight-centuries-old planet,— no lack 
of births, deaths, and marriages, to regulate the average supply of 
the human race; if the clolera creates a deficiency one year, more 
poor curates marry, and starving Irishmen take unto thems(‘lves 
wives, the next, and those beautiful babies, who contrive to turn 
out sucii very plain adults, multiply upon the face of the earth, and 
the thinned ranks are replenished. And yet two years cause strange 
alterations, when we dive beneath the surface of society, and be- 
come cognizant of the fortunes of individuals; smiles have given 
place to tears, and the grief of the mourner has turned to joy; poor 
men have grown rich, and rich men poor, and the bad (with but 
tew, very tew exceptions to prove the rule) have become worse, and 
the good advanced in righteousness; and the mass of the half- 
hearted, clinging yet more closely to this earth of which they are so 
enamored, where their grave is awaiting them, see iieaven afar off, 
and wish feebly, and lor a sliorter time each seventh day, that they 
were good enough to reach it. Thus the passenger train, with Us 
cargo of hopes, and fears, and wishes, speeds along the Railroad 
OF Life. 

In a magnificent apartment in one of those Arabian-night palaces, 
a Venetian palazzo, which, having belonged to one of the great his- 
torical families of the middle ages, whose chief wuis, by virtue of 
his position, a petty sovereign, was now let for the season to a 
wealthy Englishman, lounged Charles Leicester, wdiose own 
surprise at the change of fortune which could render such a descrip- 
tion of him appropriate, had not even yet ceased. On a sofa 
opposite sat his wife, on whose knee was perched a very young gen- 
tleman, to whom we could scarcely sooner have introduced oui read- 
ers, for the excellent reason that he hail not made his appearance at 
the cradle terminus of our railroad when last we treated ot his 
amiable parents. The present phase ot this extremely young aristo- 
crat was, so to speak, one ot ex-bahyhood; he ivas in the very act of 
ceasing to he ” the most beautiful creature in the world.” and, as yet, 
retained enough of his pristine loveliness to deserve the epithet of a 
really pretty child. lie exhibited in his proper person an instance of 
that strange phenomenon which (why, we have either no idea, or, 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


347 


we hope, for the sake of morality, a wrong one\ always excites such 
extreme astonishment in llie minds ot all nurses, maiden aunts, and 
leniale acquaintance — he was decidedly like his own proper papa 
and mamma. For the rest, when placed on the carpet he preferred a 
quadrupedal to an erect method of progression — had a strange habit 
ot making the rashest experiments in gastronomy, b}" putting every- 
ihinar wrong and dangerous into his mouth — never sat still tor two 
minutes consecutively; would, in the same breath, laugh heartily 
and bewail himself piteously, from exciting causes, which may be 
expected to remain a mystery throughout all time, and confined his 
conversation to tivo substantives and a colloquial hieroglyphic — 
viz., “papa,” “mamma,” and “gib Tarley,” which last was be- 
lieved to be an infantine English compound of his proper name and 
the verb “ to give,” and signified an insatiable desire to render him- 
self monarch of all he surve^yed b}’’ a process of general self appro- 
priation. At the moment in which v^e shall introduce the reader to 
the party thus assembled,' a servant entered, bearing a packet of let- 
ters on a silver w^ailer, and handing them to Leicester, withdrew. 

“ Letters from England, by Jove!” exclaimed Charles, untying the 
string which encircled them. 

“ Any for me, Charley?” inquired Laura, who. in her position of 
wife and mother, looked the prettiest little matron conceivaUe. 

“ Two for me and one tor you, from Annie Grant, if 1 may judge 
by the writing,” replied her husband, as he rose to hand it to her. 
“ Gib Tarley, papa! gib Tarley,” vociferated that individual in the 
prettiest ot infantine trebles, making insane plunges at the letters. 

Laura, raising her hand above the curly pate ot her acquisitive 
offspring, gained possession of the interesting missive; then, hold- 
ing “ Tarley ” out at arm's length, she exclaimed: 

“ Here, take your boy, papa, he is in a troublesome humor, and 1 
wish to read my letter in peace.” 

Leicester meekly obeyed, muttering as he did so, “ AYide- awake 
young woman, knows a thing or two, that mam.aia of yours, master 
Tarley ;” then taking the child on his knee, he continued, “ Now 
Tarley means to be a good boy, and sit still because papa is going 
to be busy with the affairs of state.” 

The effect of this exhortation appeared to be to excite, on the part 
of the young gentleman to whom it was addressed, a sudden and 
violent determination there and then to convert his lather into an 
extempore high-mettled racer, which equine transformation he 
strove to accomplish by placing himself astride on the paternal knee, 
clutching a fragile and delicate watch-chain by waf ot bridle, Uick- 
imi the sides ot his fictitious Rosinante with immense juvenile vigor, 
and vociferating at the top of his small voice: “ Pap-pa, gee-gee!” 

Charley cast an appealing glance at his wife; she appeared hope- 
lessly immersed in her letter, so, resigning himself to his fate, he 
muttered, faintly: “ The thermometer stands at 75^ in the shade, 
that’s all,” and started at a brisk canter. The progress of the ride, 
however, served to exhilarate both horse and jocke}^ to such i degree 
that, ere long, a violent game at romps was established, which ended 
in papa’s perching his youthful son on his shoulder, and, still influ- 
enced by the equestrian hypothesis, galloping round the room with 


348 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


him, and clearing the sofa at a flying leap in the course of their 
rapid career, to Laura’s undisguised terror. 

“ There, my dear Charles, that will do. You will break the 
child's neck and your own also to a certainty, if you do such wild 
tilings. Now ring for nurse lo take him, I want to talk to you 
about this letter. 

“ Tarley,” however, by no means approving of this arrangement, 
and insisting strenuously upon a prolongation of his ride, his father, 
who, it must be confessed, rather spoiled him than otherwise, com- 
plied with bis demand for “ Gee-gee more!” by again dashing round 
the room with him, and continuing his headlong course till he had 
deposited his rider within the precincts of the nursery, where the 
precocious Ducrow, falling under the baleful glance of an auto- 
cratic nurse, subsided into a state of infantine depression, and was 
heard no more. 

Leicester, having returned to the apartment in which he had left 
his wife, flung himself, in a stale of apparent exliaustion, upon the 
sofa he had lately jumped over, exclaiming: ” That child will be 
the death of me, I’m certain of it. Where he can get all this dread- 
ful energy of character from 1 can’t conceive. It must come ficm 
the Peyton side, for I’m certain that, even at his early age, 1 had a 
much more clearly defined idea of the dolce far niente than that un- 
natural little essence of quicksilver possesses. By Jove, it he 
should turn out as fast when he grows up as he appears now before 
he has begun growing at all, it will be an awful lookout tor our 
gray hairs.” 

” Nonsense, Charley, you’ve energy enough when you care to 
exert it; in fact, it is all your own doing; you know you delight to 
excite the child. But now be sensible, and sit up and listen to me, 
for I really want to consult you about this letter.” 

” As to listening to you, my love, 1 am only too happy to do so 
at all times and seasons, and \ ’ll promise to be as sensible as is com- 
patible with my general mental capacity; but in regard to the sit- 
ting up, you really must excuse me. i have a strong idea I sprained 
something in jumping over this sofa just now, my back or my shin, 
I forget the precise s'pot, but 1 can assure you it requires rest.” 

” Oh, you idle man,” w^as the laughing answer, ‘‘ how incoriigi- 
ble you are!” and as Laura pronounced this condemnation she seat- 
ed herself on a footstool by her husband's side, drew out her letter 
and handing it to him, said, ” They have consented to mv plan, 
and are coming here in the course of the next fortnight; but 1 do 
not like the tone of Annie’s note. She must be much more really 
ill than 1 was at all aware of, and there appears throughout a spirit 
of depression, which is so completely foreign to her nature — I can 
not understand it.” 

” 1 have a dispatch from the general,” began Leicester, leisurely 
breaking the seal. ” Pei haps that may tend to elucidate the mys- 
tery. What a fist the old fellow writes; the letters all hold up their 
heads as it they were a regiment of soldiers, and his signature 
bristles like a stand of bayonets. Oh! he ‘ hopes lo be in Venice by 
Friday week, it his daughter’s health, which has given him some 
little uneasiness lately, should permit th«3m to travel wdth the degree 
of swiftness and punctuality which has appeared lo him expedient 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 349 

in laying out their intended route.’ I’m very sorry dear Annie is 
ill. \V hat can be the matter with her, think you?’' 

Whom is the other letter from?” inquired Laura, avoiding his last 
question?” 

“Flora Bellefield,” returned Leicester, opening it; ” he can’t 
come with the Grants, but he’ll lollow them before long. He has 
backed the Dodona colt tor the Derby, and has got a heavier book 
on the race than he likes. He was hard hit at the last Newmarket 
meeting, and it anything were to go wrong with the colt, and he 
not oil the spot to hedge on the first hint, the consequences might 
be more unpleasant than people in general are aware of. Well! 
thank heaven, with all ray follies, 1 always contrived to keep clear 
of the betting ring. I don’t like that note ot BelFs; he’ll get into 
some awful scrape it he does not lake care.” 

“ P’or which 1 shall not pity him one bit,” rejoined Laura. 
“ Born to a high position, gifted with a princely fortune, if he 
chooses to disgrace the one and squander the other by gambling 
with a set of blacklegs, he deserves whatever lie may meet with. I 
hope 1 have not pained you, Charley dearest,” she continued, ob- 
serving a slight shade ot annoyance on her husband’s good-humored 
face; “ but truth is truth. 1 can not like (hat man; 1 wish he w^re 
not your brother, and oh! how 1 wish he were not to be the husband 
of our darling Annie. 1 say, Charley, how came it you never fell 
in love with her yourself? Do you know — don’t be conceited now 
— 1 (hink 1 was very lucky to get you under the circumstances?” 

A gay, laughing answer rose to the lips ot Charles Leicester, and 
then the memory of the empty, heartless life he had led before his 
marriage and the deep true happiness he had enjoyed since, came 
across him, and drawing his wife toward him, he imprinted a kiss 
on her smooth forehead, as he replied, “ If 1 am, indeed, worthy of 
your affection, darling, it is you alone who have rendered me so, 
for, belore i knew you, 1 was a mere conceited, idle, frivolous but- 
terfly, spoiled by the world, and with just sense enough (like most 
spoiled children) to despise my spoiler, without sufficient manliness 
of nature to free myself from its trammels by any unassisted efforts 
of my own.” 

Wiiat reply Lilura made to this speech, if indeed she made any, 
we do not feel ourselves called upon to chronicle; suffice it to say 
that she did not, by word, look, or deed, evince the smallest symp- 
tom of having repented of her bargain. A pause ensued which was 
broken by Leicester, who exclaimed, 

“By .iove! 1 was very nearly forgetting all about it. What’s 
o’clock?” Then drawing out a small enameled watch, one of the 
relics ot former days of dandyism, he continued: “ Half past three; 
there is just time. 1 have procured an order to see the pictures Car- 
dinal d’Ancona was telling you about last week.” 

“ Oh, the two paintings from Lord Byron’s ‘ Giaour,’ by the 
young artist about whom no one knows anything, and who is said 
to be a genius. I’m so glad; when shall we gti?” inquired Laura. 

“ AVhy, it’s a case ot Hobson’s choice,” returned Leicester, “ for 
it seems the painter was so tormented by idle people coming to his 
studio, that he has been forced to lay down a rule only to admit 
visitors on tw’o days in the week from three till five; but the oddest 


350 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


part of the business is that he cliooses to be absent on these occa- 
sions, leaving an olil attendant to play cicerone — in fact, there ap- 
pears to be some kind of mystery about the man. However, to-day 
is the day, so the sooner we’re off the better, more especially as 1 
most be with the consul at half past tour.” 

” 1 shall be ready in less than five minutes,” rejoined Laura, ” so 
order round the carriage and let us prosecute this wondrous advent- 
ure b}’' all means— a mystery is such a rarity in these matter-of-fact 
days, that even so small a one as that of a man wno prefers avoid- 
ing one’s notice instead of seeking to obtrude himself upon it is in- 
teresting.” 

‘‘ When will women cease to be curious?” soliloquized Leicester, 
elongating his body in order to reach the bell-rope without the 
trouble ot rising. Another quarter of an hour saw them cn rouU. 

In obedience to Leicester’s directions the carriage slopped at the 
door of a small house at the corner of a street turning out of the 
square at St. Mark’s. On presenting the order, an old man witli 
gray hair came forward, and ushered the visitors into a room lighted 
by a skylight beneath which were arranged various pictures, some 
finished, others in a less forward state of preparation. After ex- 
amining several ot the smaller sketches, which displayed unusual 
talent, both Leicester and his wife paused with one accord bet ore a 
large painting. The old cicerone approached them. ‘‘ Tliat is the 
picture,” he said in Italian, ” about which every one is talking; it 
is very grand, but the companion picture is finer; the signor has 
refused eight hundred guineas for the pair. They are taken from 
your Lord Byron’s poem, the ‘ Giaour;’ here is the passage, ecco 
lo As lie spoke he pointed to the following stanzas: 

” With sal>€r shivered to the hilt, 

Yet dripping with the blood he spilt; 

Yet strained within the sever’d hand 
Which quivers round that faitidesa brand; 

His turban tar behind him rolled, 

And cleft iu twain its firmest fold; 

Ills fiowing robe by falchion torn, . 

And crimson as those clouds of moru' ' 

That, streak’d with dusky red, portend 
The day shall have a stormy end; 

A slain on every busli that bore 
A framenJ of his paiampore, 

His breast with wounds unnumber’d riven, 

His back to earth, his face to heaven, 

Fall’ll Hassan lies— his unclosed eye 
Yet lowering on his enemy. 

As if the hnur that seal’d his fate 
Surviving left his quenchless liate; 

And o’er him bends that foe with brow 
As dark as his that bled below.” 

The artist had indeed well represented the feartul tragedy. Tlie 
principal light in the painting fell upon the figure, and especially 
the face ot the prostrate Hassan, which, convulsed by the death 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


351 


agony, yet glanced with an expression of “ quenchless hate ’’ upon 
his destroyer. The features of the Griaour, owing to the ]»osition in 
v;hich he stood, with one toot planted on the breast ot his tallen 
enemy, were not visible, but his figure was tall and commanding, 
and his attitude in tlie highest degree expressive of triumphant 
power. Leaning against the same easel stood the companion picture 
— it contained but a single figure, but it was one which having seen, 
it was scarcely possible to forget, sucli a living embodiment did it 
present of hopeless despair. The stony eye, the sunken cheek, the 
stern, yet spiritless mouth all spoke ot one who had indeed “ nothing 
left to love or hate,'’ all realized tlie painful description of “the 
vacant bosom’s wilderness that paralysis ot the soul in which 

“ The keenest pangs the wretched find 
Are rapture to the dreary void, 

The leatless desert of the mind.” 

In this painting also the features of the Giaour were partially con- 
cealed by the hood ot a monk’s frock which threw a deep shade 
across them, and tlie drooping, nerveless figure served in great de- 
gree 10 tell the tale. The two pictures were en‘itled “ Revenge, ” 
and, “ Its Fruits.” 

Laura and her husband gazed at them long and silently. At 
length Leicester observed, with the air of a man who tries to dis- 
sipate a sentiment akin to superstitious tear, by listening to the 
sound of his own voice: 

“ Pon my word, the}’’ are very extraordinary pictures; theie’s 1 
don’t know what about them —a kind of uncomfortable fascination 
— they’re very horrible, but they’re very clever, eh!” 

” dll! they are most wonderful,” returned Laura, in a subdued 
voice, as if she almost feared to trust herself to speak; “ particular- 
ly the second. 1 never saw anything express such uttter hopeless- 
ness as that face and attitude: one feels that active pain even would 
be a relief to the monotony ot that dull despair. VThat an uncom- 
mon person the artist must be. The execution is good, but it is the 
miud in the pictures that is so extraordinry.” 

Leicester, who, during tliis speech, had been attentively examin- 
ing the face ot the prostrate Hassau, suddenly exclaimed: “ les, of 
course, now 1 see who it is. Look here, Laura, do 3 mu perceive a 
likeness to anybody you know in the face of this tloored individual?” 

Thus accosted, Laura, after a moment’s scrutiny, replied: “ It is 
like your brother.” 

“just what struck me,” returned Leicester. “ What a quaint 
coinci lienee. I’ve seen some one somewhere, of whom the other 
fellow reminds me too.” 

“The figure bears a shadowy resemblance to the Signor Luigi 
himself, eccelenza,” observed the old attendant; ” at least, 1 have 
always thought so.” 

“ He must be rather an alarming, sanguinary kind of personage, 
at that rate; he has not flattered himself, 1 must say. 

“ The signor is tall and d irk, but handsome as the Rplvedere 
Apollo— he is not sanguinary, as you say, signor, but ot a kindness 
wliich touches the heart. 1 am bound lo love him, for he saved me 
from ruin.” 


352 LEWIS AKUNDEL. 

“ How was that? tell me/’ asked Laura, in a tone ot interest. 

“ My derr Laura, 1 am grieved to prevent your hearing this 
worthy man's recital, but unfortunately it only wants five minutes 
of the time at which 1 promised to be with the consul.” 

“How long shall you be obliged to stay with him?” inquired 
his wife. 

“ Less than half an hour, perhaps twenty minutes woulil sufiice,” 
was the rejfiy “ Shall I leave you here, and come buck toi you 
before five o’clock?” 

“ There are several p'ctures the signora has not yet examined,” 
suggested the old man. Tnus urged, Laura consented to remain. 
An idea which she would not confess even to her husband, so wild 
and fanciful did she feel it to be, had taken possession of her, and 
her curiosity in regard to the mysterious artist had become re- 
doubled. 

“ You were going to tell me some anecdote,” sbe observed, as 
Leicester quitted the studio. The cicerone, who was a venerable- 
looking old man wuth gray hair and a thoroughly Italian cast of 
features, placed a chair for the lady before a view in Venice, at 
which she had not yet looked, and then resumed Favor isca di 
sedersi la prego ugmra, 1 was g( ing to relate how the signor, 
whom 1 serve, generously rescued rue from ruin; but to do so I 
must trounle the eccellenza with a few particulars of rqy own his- 
tor 3 \ 1 was originally educated us a painter, but although 1 was 
a correct copyist and possessed some skill in mixing colors, 1 had 
not the afflatas, (he inexplicable, the divine gift of genius, which 
can not be acquired. Look at these pictures,” he continued, W'arm- 
ing into enthusiasm, as he pointed to the paintings from the 
“Giaour.” “In my prime 1 could execute better than that, my 
coloring was richer and smoother, my shades less hard and abrupt, 
though to acquire that skill had cost metitteen years of constant 
study; but, alas! the mind w^as wanting. 1 could execute, but I 
could not conceive — my pictures would never have entranced any 
one as you were entranced before those great soul- creations’,” He 
paused, sighed deeply, then resumed. “So 1 grew poor; I had a 
wife and children to support, and 1 bent my pride to become a scene 
painter at the Venice theater. 1 worked there twenty long years, 
and then from over- use my eyes grew dim, and they discarded me. 
After that 1 was employed by the great painter ot the day. Signor 

B elli to prepare canvas and mix colors for the 3 ^ouug artists 

whom he instructed. A 3 X*ar and a halt ago a pupil came to study 
with him— he w-as a stranger—” 

“ Of what country?” inquired Laura, eagerly. 

“ 1 can not inform the signora. He speaks French, German, 
Italian, and. very rarely, English, equally well, but 1 think he is 
not a fellow countryman of mine, '^he other young artists who 

frequented B elli’s studio, would often tease me for sport, but 

the signor was always kind, and would not permit them to do so 
when he was present. One day a pupil who was finishing the 
drapery ot a Madonna and Child, ot which picture all the more im- 
portant pans had been plainted by B elli himself, called me to 

bring him some particular color which he required— in my haste 1 
stumbled, and overthrew a flask of oil, which tell upon the not yet 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


353 


dry painting, entirely obliterating the features of the Madonna. 
Irritated at the difRciiity into wh ch 1 had plunged both him and 
myself, the student spiung up and seized me by the throat; in a 
moment the Signor Luigi interfered, and compressing the youth’s 
aims in hi» powerful grasp, forced him to release me. 

“ ‘ Remember, Carh),’ he said, gently, ‘ Antonelli is an old man.’ 

“ * He has ruined himself and me!’ exclaiming the other, clasp- 
ing his hands in despair; ‘B elli will discharge him without 

doubt, and me he wiU refuse to instruct any longer.’ 

“ ‘ Perhaps there is yet an alternative,’ urged the Signor Luigi; 

‘ B elli will not return till to-morrow morning; much may be 

done in eighteen hours; 1 will strive to restore the face.’ 

“ He immediately set to work; fortunately he paints with as 
much quickness as skill. W'hen night drew near he dismissed us; 
through the long hours of darkness he labored incessantly, pausing 
neither for sleep nor rtfreshment. With the earliest ray of dawn I 
was again at the studio; he was painting still, calm, earnest, grave, 
as is his wont, only appearing a little paler than usual; but such a 
work of art had grown beneath his hand, such a marvelous crea- 
tion! the Madonna herself could not have appeared more lovely than 

was that heavenly face. It was completed ere B elli arrived; 

when he beheld it he was amazed. * 

“ ‘ \rhat inspired hand has traced those features?’ he demanded. 

“ The history was related to him. He once more examined the 
picture, then turning to the signor, who at(»od near, with folded 
arms, gazing on the other’s excitement with an air of cold indiffer- 
ence, he exclaimed, in a tone of mingled admiration and rage: ‘ Go, 
1 can teach thee no longer: it is thou shouldsi be the master.’ 

“ The signor took him at his word. He engaged these painting- 

rooms, arranged with B elli that 1 should accompany him, and 

is now the first painter in Italy as to talent, and when his execution 
is a little more perfected— -ah! se ne saprct qualeclie cosa, we shall see 
men will talk of him!” 

‘‘ And the head was very lovely, was it? What style of face was 
it?” inquired Laura. 

” How can 1 tell you? it was perfection, vi bisogiiava 'Geclerln,^* 
was the enihusiastic reply, ” Stay,” he continued, glancing at the 
clock, which now wanted only ten minules of five, ” 1 have an 
idea; there is yet time, but you must never say that you have seen 
it. Here, follow me;” and drawing out a key, he unlocked a door 
leading into a small apartment, comtortably though simply furnish- 
ed, and fitted up with bookshelves somewhat after the fasiiion of an 
English stucty. ‘‘ Ecco resumed Antouelli, ” he has again sketch- 
ed the head, but the subject is different. He will not allow me to 
place this picture in the studio, though it is such a gem 1 could sell 
it for a large price.” 

As he spoke he drew back a curtain and the light fell upon a small 
pficture painted with greater care and more elaborately finished than 
any which Laura had yet seen. It represented a girl of exquisite 
beauty in a kneeling attitude, with her arms flung sportively around 
the neck of a magn,ificent dog, her golden tresses falling over and 
mingling with the waves of his shaggy coat. 

As I^aura grazed her color went and came quickly and her eyes 


354 


LEWrs ARUNDEL. 

seemed to ^jrowto the canvas; l)Otli "irl and do^^were portraits done 
to the life, and she recognized each ot them immediate! 3’^ — her wild 
conjecture «\’as then the truth — her determination was instiuUl)' 
taken. Seating herselt as it to examine the picture more nearly, 
she contrived by one or two artful questions to set the garrulous old 
man talking again; and forgetful of the llight of moments drew 
him on to relate to her how the signor had discovered that his 
youngest born, the son of his old age, possessed a talent for paint- 
ing, and how the signor was giving him lessons, and the talent 
was daily developing under such favorable circumstances, until tne 
old man had begun to hope that the might succeed better than 
his tatlicr had done and retrieve the shipwrecked fortunes of the 
Antonellis. 

Wliile he was 3'et in the midst of his recital the clock struck five, 
and almost at the same moment a quickj activ^e tootslep was . heard 
bounding up the staiicase and the deep tones of a man’s voice ex- 
claimed: 

Antonelli, Antondli, dove set bno?d amico?'' 

With a horror-stricken glance at his companion the old man "^^as 
about to rush precipitatel}" out ot the room, when Laura, quietly 
laying her hand upon his arm, said: 

“ There is nothing to be alarmed about; hlsogna ch' lo ijU 
tell the signor that an old triend is waiting to see him.” 

As she spoke a tall graceful tiguie appeared at the door ot the 
stud3Mmd stopped in amazement on perceiving how it was tenanted. 
In no way embarrassed b}^ the situation in which she found herself, 
Lnura rose from her seat with the same degree of quiet, courteous 
self-possession with whicli she would have received a guest in her 
own drawing-room, and advancing toward the new-comer, said, 
holding out her hand: 

‘‘ Your kindness will pardon the little stratagem by which 1 have 
sought tu verity my conjecture, that in Signor Jjiiigi I should have 
the pleasure of recognizing an old friend.” 

” Jjcave us, Antonelli,” exclaimed his emplo3^er, sternly; then 
careful 13^ closing the door, he turned toward bis guest, and bowing 
coldly, inquired: ” To what am 1 indebted for the honor of a visit 
from Mrs. Leicester?” 

” To the fact that 1 was vain enough to fancy the pleasure 1 feel 
in meeting an old friend might be mutual ; and that Mr. Arundel 
would not resent the libcTty 1 have taken in disregarding the regu- 
lations of the famous Signor Luigi; if 1 am so unfortunate as to 
have committed a tnishdie, it is soon remedied,” she continued 
quickly, finding that Lewis (as we have not intended any but the 
most transparem. mvstification in regard to the identity of the 
painter and our hero — we may as well call him by his proper name) 
remained silent; as she spoke she rose and advanced toward the 
door. Her looks and words recalled Lewis’s wandering thoughts; 
he took her hand, rccondacted her to her seat, and then in a tone of 
deep feeling said: 

‘‘ Forgive me; but you do not, 3mu can uA know the train of 
overpowing memories 3^our sudd(;n appearance cai’ed up: indeed I 
am glad again to look upon the face of an old friend, since you ac- 


LEWIS ARUN-DEL. 


355 


cord me the pleasure of so considering you, glad as a two years’ 
exile from all who ever knew or cared foi him, can make a man.” 

” Is it so long since you quitted England?” inquired Laura. 

” It is,” was the reply. Lewis paused and then continued: 1 

left England under circumstances which caused me great mental 
suftering— suflering which time and a complete change of scene 
could alone render less bitter. I traveled tor five months, passing 
through Greece and visiting Constantinople; at the expiration of 
that period I wandered hither, my vigor of mind and body in great 
measure restored. The wonders of this country revived iny enthu- 
siasm for art; this, and the necessity of following some profession, 
led me to the idea of adopting the career of a paintr r. For a year 1 

worked for ten hours daily in the studio of Signor B ; at the 

end of that period 1 quitted him and commenced painting on my 
own account; hitherto m}’’ success has surpassed my most sanguine 
expectations, so that I trust 1 have at last hit upon my true voca- 
tion.” 

” 1 am so delighted to hear it!” exclaimed Laura, warmly, ‘‘ but 
how is it we have seen nothing of you before — did you not hear of 
our arrival? we have been here more than a month.” 

Lewis colored, bit his lips, and then replied: ” My recoiled ions 
of England were so painful that 1 resolved, partl}^ for that reason, 
partly that 1 might keep my mind tree from many anxieties which 
could interfere with my devoting my faculties fully and entirely to 
art. to avoid the society of the tew English who were likely to come 
in my way; indeed my only associates have been the young arlists 

with whom 1 became acquainted in the studio of B elli, and the 

family of the worthy old man who acts as my assidant.” 

” But you will make us exceptions to the rule,” pleaded Laura. 
” Charles will be really hurt if you refuse to come to us.’* J^ewis 
paused, his impulse was to refuse, but there was a genuine kindness 
in Laura's manner which vouched for her sincerity; had she been a 
man he would have adhered to his resolution, but it was not easy to 
say no to Laura. ‘‘ Forgive my apparent churlishness,” be began, 
‘‘ but may I ask whether 3 ^ou have any of — of- your English friends 
staying with you?” 

‘‘Not at present. Charles and 1 are leading a quiet humdrum 
Darby -and- Joan life which need not alarm even your liermit like 
habits. \ oil must promise to dine with us to-morrow at six.” 

‘‘ You are most good-natured to humor what must appear to you 
my absurd caprices,” returned Lewis, touched by her thoughtful 
kindness. 

‘‘ But you will come,” she said, holding out her hand to him. 

Lewis took it in his own and pressed it warmly as he replied, 
” Nobody could resist such gentle pleading.” 

At this moment the door was flung open, and Charles Leicester 
burst in, looking more puzzled, excited, and angry than he bad 
ever been Rnowu to do in the previous course of his existence; while 
Antonelli, vociferaling eagerly in Italian and broken English, wms 
yainly endeavoring to detain him. 


356 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


CHAPTER Lll. 

IS DECIDEDLY ORIGINAL, AS IT DISPLAYS MATRIMONY IN A MORE 
FAVORABLE LIGHT THAN COURTSHIP. 

The Honorable Charles Leicesier was, take hini all in all. about 
as easy-lenipcred a fellow as ever breathed; but when old Antonelli 
informed him that his 3mung and pretty wife was closeted with a 
mysterious stranger, at the same time positively' refusino; to allow 
him to enter the iinartment in which they wtre shut up together, 
even he considered that it was time to exert liimselt; so seizing the 
old man by the arm, anil swinging him round with a degree of 
energy which great!} discomposed that worthy cicerone, he threw 
open the door, and staring with an angry and bewildered gaze into 
the dimly lighted room, discovered, to his horror and disgust, 
Laiiia quietly sitting with her hand clasped in that ot a handsome 
young Italian, for such did Lewis at first sight appear. The period 
which had elapsed since Leicester had last seen him. had produced 
so marked a cliange in his appearance, that meeting him lor the 
first time under circumstances so utterly disconnected with all 
toimer associations, he might well deem he w^as addressing a total 
stranger. Lewis’s pale features had regained in a great degree their 
look of healtli, and exposure to a southern sun had converted the 
delicate complexion into a manly brown, while, having allowed his 
mustaches and even a short curly beard to grow, the lower part ot 
Jiis lace was enveloped in a mass of glossy black hair; this, and the 
stern ihoughttiil expression ot his countenance, caused him to look 
at least five years older than he really 'was. He rose as Leicester 
ente’ed. and advanced a step toward him; then, seeing that the 
other did not in the slightest degree recognize him, he paused and 
exchanged a smiling glance with Laura, as he marked Charley’s 
puzzled, angry expression. 

]/aura, entering thorouglily into the absurdity of the situation, 
determined to improve it to the uttermost; returning Ijewis’s ghince 
with a look into which she contrived to throw an amount ot ten 
derness that by no means soothed her husband’s irritation, she be- 
gan: 

“ Ah! Charles, let me introduce you; you Avill be delighted to 
hear that Signor Luigi has kindly promised to dine with ns to-mor- 

lOW. ” 

“ The deuce he has!” muttered Leicester to himself, ” he n ight 
have waited till 1 had asked him, 1 think;” tlien acknowledging the 
introduction by a treezing little bow, he continued aloud: 

‘‘ Now, my dear Jaiura, the carriage is waiting;” then crossing 
to the place where his wile was seated, he held out his arm with tlie 
evident intention of linking hers with it and walking her off forth- 
with. 

But Laura clearly disapproved of such precipitation; for, with- 
out showing the slightest disposition to move, she replied: 

” Restrain your impatience a few minutes longer, Mr Leieestcr 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 357 

having tormed so acreeab’e an acquaintance,” she continued, clanc- 
ing at Lewis, “ you really UMist allow me time to prosecute it.” 

It was not in Charles Leicester’s nature to be angry with any one 
lor live minutes consecutively; witli his wite, whom he idolized, it 
was utterly inipossible; so making up his mind that Luigi was a 
kind of lion, to be regarded in the light ot an exhibition, and stared 
at and fed accordingly, and that Laura’s sudden fancy for him was 
only an instance ot womanly caprice — “ women always went mad 
about celebrities,” he knew— he made a short, penitent, civil speech, 
and then flung himself lazily into a chair, witli a look of half-bored, 
half-sulky resignation, which, under the circumstances, was per- 
fectly irresistible. 

That his twm companions found it so was evidenced by their 
simultaneously bursting into a hearty fit of laughter, increased to 
an alarming degree by the look ot utter astonishment that came 
over Leicester’s face at their incomprehensible conduct. As soon as 
Laura could recover breath, she began: 

” Why, Charley, you dear, good-natured, stupid old thing! don’t 
you see who it is yet?” 

At the same moment the iVIysterious Cne approached him, saying: 

” Have you quite forgotten the existence of Lewis Arundel?” 

For a moment Charley gazed in half-skeptical astonishment, and 
then seizing his hand and shaking it as if he was anxious to make 
up for his dullness by dislocating ids friend’s slioulder, he ex- 
claimed: ” ]\ly dear fellow, 1 am delighted to see you: I really am 
quite ashamed of myself, but ’pou my wnrd, you’ve made yourself 
look so particularly unlike yourself, and the whole thing altogether 
is so very strange and unexpected, and more like an incident in a 
novel, than a real /(fe transact ion of every-day life, that you 
must hold me excused. My dear Laura, I began to think you were 
gone out of your senses, and that 1 should have to piocure a keeper 
for you. VVhy, Arundel, then 5 ^ 11 ’ve turned out a genius after all, 
a second Michael Angelo, eh? I said you would, if you remember, 
that day when you painted the cow?” 

As he spoke he stooped to pick up his cane and gloves, w'hich, in 
the excitement of the discovery, he had allowed to drop; conse- 
quently he did not perceive the effect his words had produced upon 
Lewis. Did he remember the incident to wdiioh Leicester had al- 
luded? Would to heaven he could forget that which was branded 
on his memory, as with a red-hot iron, the fact that on the day in 
question he had for the first time beheld Annie Grant. He turned 
pale — the blood seemed to rush back upon his heart and oppress him 
with a feeling ot suffocation —he was forced to lean against a table 
for support. 

These signs of emotion were not lost upon Laura’s quick eye, and 
rising at the moment to divert her husband’s attention, she observer! ; 
” Now i have at length succeeded in enlightening your understand- 
ing, Charley dear, lam quit^at 5 ’'oiir service, and that of the horses. ’' 

“Come along, then,” w\as the reply; “you’ll dine with us to- 
morrow, wiihout fail, Signor Luigi, alias Arundel, you polyglot 
mystery. ’.Pon my word, it’s the oddest coincidence 1 ever knew, 
exactly like a thing in a play, where everyborly turns out to be 
somebody else. Come along, Laura; 1 must try and conciliate your 


358 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 

ojcl triend, tlie cicerone, too, for 1 swune: him round in my wrath 
most viciously; 1 hope 1 have not dislocated any of his venerable 
joints; 1 got the steam up to no end of a height, 1 can tell you, 
when 1 fancied 1 had lost my love. Bv-by, al placer di rivedarla 
signore.^' Thus running on, Charley Leicester tucked his wife 
under his arm, and having handsomely rewarded Antonelli,. departed. 
In the course of their drive home, Laura, after her husband had 
again and again expressed his astonishment at the denouement 
which had just taken place, inquired, “ You never clearly made 
: ut the reason why Mr. Arundel quilted Broadhurst, did you, 
Charley?” 

” Kd; Bellefield hinted in his way, wdiich gives one an impres- 
sion without one’s exactly knowing what grounds one has for tak- 
ing it up. that Arundel had misconducted himself in some manner; 
but the general’s letter quite contradicted such an idea, and spoke 
of him in the very highest, terms. 1 thought nothing of what Belle- 
field said, for they never liked one another, and, entre iious, 1 con- 
sider Belle behaved shamefully to him on one or two occasions.” 

Ijaura pausedfor a minute in thought, and then inquired: ” What 
did the remark 3 '' 0 U made about sketching a cow, refer to?” 

” Oh! did 1 never tell you that?” returned Charles, laughing. 
‘‘ The incident occurred on the occasion of his first introduction to 
the Grant family;” and he then proceeded to give her a full, true, 
and particular account of the interesting adventure, with which the 
reader is already acquainted. As he concluded, Laura observed : 

‘‘ In fact, then he beheld for the first time Annie Grant. Now 1 
can guess why he turned pale when you referred to it ; Charley, you 
must be careful how you say anything about the Broadhurst party 
before him.” 

” Eh! and wherefore, oh wise little woman, endowed with an un- 
limited power of seeing into milestones?” was the bantering reply. 

“ Well, if 1 tell you, you must promise never to mention the Idea, 
for it is only an idea, to anybody till I give you leave,” returned 
Laura. 

Charley compressed iris lips, and went through a pantomimic 
representation of sewing them together. 

“Nay, but I’m serious,” resumed Laura; “if I tell you, you 
must be careful, and not blunder it out in any of your absent ills; 
do you promise?” 

“ I’ll do more than promise,” returned her husband, energetical- 
ly; “ I’ll swear by all 

” ‘ The heathen gods and goddesses. 

Without skirts and bodices,’ 

never to reveal to mortal ear the fatal secret — so let us have it.” 

“ Well, then, if you must know, 1 suspect Mr. Arundel to have 
had belter taste than you, and not to have escaped with a whole 
heart from the fascinations of Annie Grant.” 

“Phew!” replied Leicester, giving vent to a prolonged whistle 
indicative of intense surprise; “ that is the stale of the case, eh? 
Then my allusion to the cow was just about the most unlucky topic 
1 could have hit upon. 1 certainly have a genius for putting rny 
foot in it, whenever circumstances afford an aperture for the iuser- 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


359 


tion of that extremity. 1 should not wonder if that idea of yours, 
always supposing it lo be correct, might explain his sudden depart- 
ure from Broadhurst, and account for this strange freak of expatri- 
ating himself, and starting as a second-hand modern Michael Ange- 
lo. 1 say, Laura, suppose the fancy should happen lo be mutual, 
Bellefield may have had more cause for disliking Arundel than peo- 
ple were aware of.” 

” She would never have accepted your brother, it she knew that 
another loved her, and felt that she returned his affection; Annie is 
too good ami true-hearted for that,” returned Laura, warmly. 

‘‘ Time will show,” replied Leicester. ‘‘ I only hope it may m.t 
be so; for, between Arundel and Belle, 1 should not know how to 
act. Belle is my brother, and to Arundehs good advice 1 shall al- 
ways consider 1 am in great measure indebted for a certain t)laLnie 
of my life (without whose plaguing the said'life wouldn’t be worth 
having, all the same). The only course 1 can take, it your sus- 
picions prove true, will be to observe a strict neutrality.”' 

” And how would you wdsh me to act, Charley dear?” inquired 
Laura, taking her husband’s fingers caressingly between her own 
soft, white 111 tie hands. ” You know 1 can’t recommend Annie to 
marry your brolher if she does not love him.” 

‘‘Follow the dictates of your own good sense and kind heart, 
darling, and you will be sure lo do rightly. 1 have the most per- 
fect confidence in you, and would not influence you one way or an- 
other, if 1 could.” The tears rose to Laura’s eyes at this fresh 
proof of her husband's affection, and as she reflected on what he 
had said in regard to Lewis’s share in bringing them together, she 
inwardly vowed that if ever it lay in her power to do him a similar 
good turn, she would not be slothful in advancing his interests. 

True to his promise, Lewis dined with them the next day; by 
mutual consent, all reference to the past was avoided, and no allu- 
sion made to any of the Broadhurst party. As soon as Lewis found 
this to be the case, a cretain proud embarrassment, observable in his 
manner, disappeared, and yielding to the delight of again finding 
himself in congenial society, he unconsciously displayed his brilliant 
conversational powers, relating, with playful wit, or forcible and 
striking illustration, the adventures which had befallen him and 
the scenery he'had beheld in his late pedestrian tour, till Charles 
and Laura, who had only been acquainted with him when the cloud 
of his dependent position at Broadhurst hung over him and con- 
cealed his natural characier beneath a veil of proud reserve, were 
eitually delighted and astonished; and when, late in the evening, he 
took his departure, they vied with each other in performing a duet 
to his praise. 

” He talks so well!” exclaimed Charley. 

‘‘ He knows so much!” cried Laura. 

‘‘ He has been everywhere,” continued the former. 

” And done everything,” resumed the latter. 

” He is so clever and epigrammatic,” urged the gentleman. 

‘‘ And his descriptions of scenery are so poetical,” put in the lady. 

‘‘ His figure is so striking,” said the master. 

” And liis face so handsome,” rejoined the mistress. 

” \Yhat a pair of eyes he has. ” 


360 


LEWIS AUUNDEL. 


“ And such a smile.” 

” Then his mustache and whiskers are irreproachable.” 

” And his hands whiier than mine.” 

” In fad he is a stunner,” declared the baritone. 

” Though 1 detest slang, 1 must confess that he is,” chimed in the 
soprano. 

‘‘ It 1 were a woman I should be over head and ears in love with 
him,” suggested Charley. 

‘‘1 am both the one and the other,” responded his wife, casting 
an arch glance at her spouse, as much as to say, ” How do you like 
that?” which rebellious speech her lord and master punished by 
stopping her mouth with the only remedy we belieye ever to have 
been found efiectual in such a case. 

From that time forth, Lewis became a constant visitor at the 
Palazzo Grassini, and, at last completed his triumph over Laura’s 
affections, by asking, as a favor, to be allowed to take a sketch of 
” Tarley;” he wanted a study of a child’s head so much; then the 
sketch was pronounced so successful, that nothing would serve but 
that it must be perpetuated m oils, and as the possibility of making 
” I'arley ” sit still long enough for such a purpose, did not exist 
unless Laura sat also, Lewis consented to paint them together, al- 
though he had hitherto steadily refused to take a portrait, iu spite 
of large sums which had been offered him to do so. 

Laura received a second epistle from Annie Grant, postponing 
their visit for another fortnight. Her father had all along expected 
Miss Livingstone would accompany them, as a matter of course; but 
wheii it came to the point, that redoubtable spinster broke into open 
revolt, asserted her mdependence, nailed her colors to the mast and 
determined upon death or victory. So resolute was she, that after 
a most obstinate engagement with sharp tongues, which folio tved 
upon two days of sulky silence, the generah was forced to make 
terms, and yield his own will to that of a woman; so Minerva re- 
mained behind to garrison Broadhurst. As, however, the general 
by no means approved of his daughter traveling wiihoul some fe- 
male companion, the journey was very nearly being given up, when 
ai the last moment, a lady, the v ife of an Austrian officer ijuartered 
at Venice, was discovered, who, seeking for an escort to enable her 
to join her husband, was only too happy to be allowed to accom- 
pany the Grant party. These delays, however, would necessarily 
letard their arrival for at least a fortnight. Hays passed away; the 
picture (and a very pretty one it was) of the fair young nvother and 
her little rosy, merry child, advanced toward completion, and Lewis 
began to look forward with a feeling almost akin to regret, to the 
time when the sittings, and the agreeable friendly conversations to 
which they gave rise, would be at an end. 

Since he hud quitled England his thoughts and feelings had un- 
dergone various and considerable changes; at first lie had striven, in 
the excitement of active adventure, to banish recollection, and after 
a time he succeeded so far as to take a lively interest in all he saw. 
The revolutiouar}" spirit, wliich has since produced such changes in 
modern Europe, was tlien beginnin”’ to show itself, and he w^itnessed 
the outbreak of a rather serious emente in one of the German States 
in which he contrived to get mixed up, ard by these means he came 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 36l 

in for a couple of days’ hard fighting and a week of intense fatigue 
and excitement. This, paradoxical as it may appear, was of the 
greatest psycliological assistance to him; it roused him efti rtually, 
and took him corupletely out of himself. The excitement was kept 
up for some little time longer, for, owing to the part which his old 
student associations had led him to take in the affair, he brought 
upon himself the suspicions of the Prussian government, and the 
next event of his lour was, in fact, a flight to save himself from 
arrest. Duiing this period he w^as accompanied by a young German, 
who, much more deeply implicated in the affoir than Lewis had 
been, dreaded that his capture might lead to his execution; and. 
unwilling to atone for his patriotism with his life, he and his com- 
panion hurried from the scene of their exploits, experiencing m- 
numerable dangers, difficulties, and hair-breadth escapes, ere they 
arrived at that sanctuary for political refugees, the city of the Sul- 
tan. Having by these means regained his energy and vigor of 
mind, Lewis applied himself heart and soul to the study of his new 
profession, and in the interest of the pursuit kept his powers, mental 
and bodily, so fully employed as to hold memory at bay, and to 
require neither society nor sym.palhy; but now a change came over 
him; he had in great measure mastered the difficulties of his art, 
he had solved the problem whether his talent he could secure a 
competency for himself and those belonging to him; constant and 
indefatigable labor was no longer an obligation, and ere the Leices- 
ters discovered him, he had begun to feel, though he would scarcely 
acknowledge even to himself, the want of those social ties from 
which, in his first frenzy of grief, he had voluntarily separated him- 
self. In the societ}^ of the Leicesters he obtained exactly tbe amount 
of relaxation which be required — Laura appreciated and understood 
him, Charles, without understanding, liked him— while, on his part, 
the lady’s society interested acd soothed him, and that of her hus- 
band afforded hin'i amusement and companionship. 

As the day approached on which the Broadhurst party were ex- 
pected to arrive, Laura became considerably perplexed as to how^ 
she might best break the matter to Lewis; she had once, by w'ay of 
experiment, mentioned to her husband in Lewis’s presence the fact 
that she had received a letter from Broadhurst, and the start he gave 
at the name, the death-like paleness which overspread his counte- 
nance, the quivering lip and clinched hand, tola of such deep men- 
tal suffering, that, f lightened at the effect she had produced, Laura 
immediately changed the subject, and had never again ventured to 
allude to it. 

The last sitting for the picture chanced to be fixed for the very 
morning before that on which the Grants were expected to arrive. 
Laura consulted her husband as to the affair; Charley stroked his 
chin, caressed his whiskers, gazed vacantly at himself in the chim- 
ney-glass, and then, putting on a look of sapient self-confidence, m 
regard to the reality whereof it was clear he emertained the strong- 
est misgivings, he began in a thorough master-of-the- family tone: 

Why, it seems to me, my love, that the present is exactly one 
of those emergencies in which a w^oman’s tact is the very thing re- 
quired. 1 should advise you to feel your way with great caution, 
very great cautiop, and when by this means j^ou have ascertained 


862 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


the best method of breakiug it to him, 1 Bhoiild speak at once with- 
out any further hesilali«)n and— and — ” 

“ 1 think you had better undertake the business yourself, Chailey 
dear, as you seem to have such a clearly defined idea how to set 
about it,’* interrupted Laura, with a roguish smile. 

“ ISot at all; by no means, my dear,” replied Charley, speaking 
with unwonted energy. ” A — in tact so strongly do 1 feel that 
woman's tact is the tiling required, and that any interference of mine 
miffht ruin the whole affair, and in shoit bring about something 
very disagreeable, that 1 have made arrangements which will keep 
me from home during the whole morning, so as to leave you a clear 
field.” 

” Oh, you dreadfully transparent old impostor! a child of five 
years old could see through you,” exclaimed Laura, laughing heart- 
ily at the detected look which instantly stole over hei husband’s 
visage. ” JS^ow, it you don’t honestly confess that you have not an 
idea how to get over the difficulty,” she continued, ” ihctyou dread 
a scene with a true degree of masculine hori'or, and yet have not the 
most remote notion how to avoid one. I’ll ‘ make arrangements 
which will take me from home all the morning,' and leave you to 
flounder through the affair as best you can.” 

” There is a vixen tor you,” exclaimed Charle}", appealing to so- 
.ciety at large. ” Poor Socrates! 1 always had a commiseration tor 
his domestic anno3mnces \Yhen I read of them at school, but 1 little 
dreamed that 1 should live to have personal experience of the mis- 
erii'S of possessing a Xantippe;” then throwing himself into a mock- 
tragic attitude, he ejaculated: Ungrateful woman! i leave you to 
your tate,” and shaking his fist at her, pressed his hand to his fore- 
head, and rushed distractedly out of the room; in less than two 
minutes he lounged in again drawing on his gloves. ” What a bore 
tight gloves are!” he murmured, feebly. ‘‘ Here, Laura.” So 
saying, he sealed himself by his wife’s side, languidly holding out 
his hand, while with the most helpless air imaginable, he allowed 
)ier to pull on the refractory gloves for him, which she did with a 
most amusing display of energ}^ and perseverance. 

” Volldy monsieur she said; “that Herculean feat is accom- 
plished. Have you aught else to command your slave?” 

Charley regarded her with a look of affection, as he replied: 
” Wliat a blessing it is to have a good clever littlc wife to do all the 
liorrid things for one. Good-bye, my own. When you have done 
victimizing Arundel with your alarming intelligence, ask him to 
dine with us today; 1 w’ant particularly to talk to him. He knows 
the people here belter than 1 do; but it strikes me the politics of the 
place are getting into a mess.” 

So saying, he imprinted a kiss upon her brow, admired his hand 
in the new, well fitting glove, and sauntered out of the apartment 
as listlessly as though he were walking in his sleep. 

Punctual to his appointment, Lewis arrived, looking so handsome 
and animated, that Laura felt doubly grieved at having to make a 
communication which she was persuaded would tend to renew the 
memory of a grief against which lie appeared to have struggled wdlJi 
some degree of success. Her task w as tendered the more difficult 
from the conviction that Lewis’s intercourse wdth her husband and 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


863 


herself had been of great service to him, by insensibly overcoming 
his misanthropic distaste to society. This intercourse she teared 
the tidings she was about to impart to him would eflectually inter- 
rupt. “Where is ‘Tarley'?” inquired Levvis, after exchanging 
salutations with “ La Madre.” 

“ lu the nursery adorning tor the sacrifice of his personal freedom 
during the period you may require him to remain eu positwro,' * an- 
swered Laura; “ shall 1 ring tor him?” 

“ May 1 fetch him im^selt? I promised him a ride on my bach 
for good conduct at the last sitting, and he must not be disap- 
pointed,” urged Lewis, in reply. 

“ Agreed —always premising that you take great care not to tum- 
ble the clean frock,” returned Laura, with a graiified smile. “ Who 
could believe that that man was the same creature who used to look 
so stern and cold and proud?” she added, mentally, as Lewis de- 
parted on his mission; “ he has as much tenderness of nature as any 
woman, if he really does love Annie, and she can prefer Lord 
Bellefield, she deserves all the unhappiness such a choice will inevi- 
tably bring upon her; her greatest enemy can wish her nothing 
worse. Well, ‘ Tarley,’ are you going to sit still and be good?” 
she continued, as that selt- willed juvenile entered, seated in triumph 
upon Lewis’s shoulder, and grasping a lock of his horse’s ebon mane 
the better to preserve his balance. 

Tarle.y having signified in the very smallest broken English his 
intention to keeq) the peace to the best of his little ability, the sitting 
began in good earnest, and terminated, as far as that young gentle- 
man was concerned, in less than an hour, during which period, as 
he only tore his mamma’s gown once, made a hole in the sofa-cover, 
and had one violent fit of kicking, he may, comparatively, be con- 
sidered (all things are comparative) to have kept his word. A few 
finishing touches still remained to complete Laura’s portrait, and 
these Lewis hastened to add. The conversation (originating in 
Tarley’s escapades) turned on education. 

“ The theory which 1 hold to be the true one is simple enough,” 
remarked Lewis; “ the first thing to inculcate is— oblige me by 
turning a little more to the light— implicit obedience; that once ac- 
quired —rather more still — you may. as the mind develops, occasion- 
ally give a reason for your commands— you see my object is to get 
a clearer light on the left eyebrow — thank you; don’t move.” 

“ But that obedience, to be of much avail, should be founded on 
other feelings than mere fear of consequences,” returned Laura; 

“ for that in sturdy minds produces obstinacy, in weak ones deceit 
and falsehood, and in botji cases necessarily loses its effect as the 
pupil advances toward maturity. It always appears to me, that in 
our conduct toward children, we should strive to imitate (with rev- 
erence be it spoken) God’s dealings toward ourselves. We should 
teach them to love and trust us, and obedience based on affection 
and faith will surely never fail for time or eternity. Then,” she 
continued, as Lewis, bending over his woik, failed to reply, “I 
should endeavor to make their punishments appear as much as pos- 
sible the natural consequences of their faults; for instance, 1 should 
allow them to experience to the uttermost the mental suffering 
caused by pride and anger, and in tlu ir cooler moments point out to 


364 


LEWIS AKUNDEL, 


them that it may be wise, as well as ri.u:ht, to suffer even injustice 
mildly, rather than bear the distress at mind a contrary line of con- 
duct is sure to entail. 1 should impress upon them the evil of cov- 
eting, by denyinix them the thing they sn eagerly sought. In fact/' 
she added, hastily, fancying from her companion's silence that for 
seme teason her conversation was distasteful to him, “ 1 have a 
great many sapient theoretical ideas in regard to education, but how 
they may turn out when i come to put them in practice remains to 
be proved.” 

Lewis, who during the conclusion of this speech had been paint- 
ing away as zealously as if his jife depended upon his exertions, 
the ugh a close observer might have remarked, by his downcast eye 
and quivering lip, the effect Laura’s words produced on him, re- 
plied earnestl}^; ” Would to heaven all mothers felt as truly and 
wisely as you do about education; were children taught such princi- 
ples of self-government as you propose, there would be fewer ach- 
ing hearts among us.” 

Having uttered these words, and sighed deeply, he spoke no more 
until he had finished Laura’s portrait. 

‘‘ There,” he said, ” 1 need detain you no longer; with the excep- 
tion of a few touches to (lie drapery, wnich i can do at my own 
rooms, the picture is completed.'' 

Laura approached and duly admired it, declaring the likeness of 
Tarley to be perfect; but feeling quite certain Lewis Lad flattered 
her terribly, at which little touch of woman's nature the young 
artist smiled as be denied the accusation. And now the moment 
had arrived when Laura must break her intelligence to him as best 
she might. Her straight forward simple nature disdained all subter- 
fuge, and she began accordingly: 

‘‘ There is a topic which, from a tear, perhaps uncalled for, of 
giving you pain, Charles and 1 have avoided, but which 1 am now 
compelled to mention to you; you asked me at our first meeting 
whether we were alone; atter to-day we shall be so no longer, and 
the guests we expect are none other tlian your former pupil, Wulter, 
General Grant and liis daughter.” Laura had purposely placed her- 
selt in such a position that she could not see her companion’s feat- 
ures, as she made this communication, and the only sign of agita- 
tion which met her ear was the sound of his quick and labored 
iireathing. Alter a moineul’s pause, he said, in a hurried, stern 
tone of voice: ” 1 can not meet them; it is impossible, I must leave 
this place directly.” 

“ Kay, that surely is unnecessary, no one here knows 'mu but our- 
selves; you have only to resume your incognito, and in Signor Luigi, 
the Venetian painter, no one will recogtiize Lewis Arundel. We 
will keep jmur secret inviolably.” 

Can 1 rely on the discretion of Mr. Leicester?” 

‘‘Perfectly; if he knows yen consider the matter important he 
will remain silent as the grave.” 

” Be it so then,” returned Lewis, after a pause. Having paced 
up and down the room, he threw himself on a sofa, and covering 
his eyes with his hand, remained buried in painful Ihought. 

Laura watched him with deep interest, till at length she could re 
strain *he expression ot her sympathy no longer. 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


365 


'"Imust speak that which is in my mind/’ she said, earnestly. 
“ 1 know that you are good ana irue-hearted, you can have done no 
wrong that you have cause lo be ashamed of. Why, Uien, do you 
fear lo meet these peopleV” 

Lewis started, raised his head, and flinging back his dark hair, 
exclaimed, almost fiercely: “Did you say fear? i fear no living 
being! There is no man who can accuse me of evil-doing; my name 
is as spotless as yoi r own pure soul.” 

“ Then why refuse to meet them?” 

“ Because 1 fear my own heait,” was the vehement reply; “ be- 
cause 1 have sworn never to meet her agai i till 1 have learned to 
look upon her with the indifference her weak fickleness deserves; 
and that,” he added, bitterly, “ will not be till gray hairs liring in- 
sensibility to woman’s love and such like gilded toys, or till she has 
crushed out the last germs of my lingering madness by marrying 
the heartless scoundrel to whom she is engaged.” He paused, then 
continued more calmly: “ You ask me why 1 refuse to meet these 
people; hear the truth, and then judge for yourself whether 1 can 
meet them; nay, lor me, if you will, for 1 am halt-frenzied by the 
anguish 1 have suffered, and am as incapatle to decide for myself 
in this affairasachild (such puppets are we to our lovesand hates.)” 
And then, in eager, hurried accents, he told her of his love for 
Annie Grant, his struggles of self-conquest, his signal failure, his 
fearful hope that she returned his affection, the parting, his confes- 
sion to the general, the strange tidings he had heard in London, and 
then the cruel, paralyzing blow of Annie’s engagement, renewed 
the very day after he had left Broadhurst, believing, on no slight 
grounds, that she loved him and him only. All the burning sor- 
row, pent for two long years within his secret soul, he poured forth 
before her, and Laura listened with glowing cheeks and tearful eyes, 
and a growing resolve in her brave, pure heart to set aside all con- 
ventionalisms, and ever}^ hollow form of society, and if Annie 
should but prove worthy of him, lo labor with all the energy of her 
earnest nature to bring these young, sad, loving hearts together 
again. 


CHAPTER Llll. 

LEWIS ATTENDS AN EVENING PARTY, AND NARROWLY ESCAPES 
BEING -‘cut” by an OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 

“ Now listen to me and be good and sensible and tractable, tor 
once ill youi life,” exclaimed Laura, when Lewis’s agitation had in 
some degree subsided; “ you appear to have acted with more than 
sufficient self-will and impetuosity all through this affair, and 
the result has not proved so satisfactory as to justify you in ref using 
a iriend’s advice and assistance. Excuse my plain speaking,” she 
continued, with a frank smile which would have thawed the morose- 
ness of the most churlish misanthrope who ever reversed the pre- 
cepts of Christianity by hating his neighbor; “ but 1 must either say 
all 1 think or he wholly silent. Besides, it is no kindness to hold 
the truth from you.” 

“ What would you have me to do?” returned Lewis, sadly; “ be- 


36G 


LEAVTS ARUNDEL. 


lieve me, 1 leproacb myself for my pest tolly more bitterly than you 
could do were you my worst eaemy, instead of Ibe gentle, zealous 
friend you are.” 

” 1 would not have you at present do anything, more especially 
anything rash,” returned Laura, ” but simply leave the matter in 
my hands. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Promise me—” began Lewis. 

” 1 promise you I will do nothing which can in the smallest de- 
gree compromise your honor, or even your pride,” returned Laura, 
with the slightest possible degree ot sarcasm in her tone; ‘‘ beyond 
this I will promise you nothing; and it you have not sufficient faith 
to trust my friendship thus far you are less worthy of it than 1 
have deemed you.” Lewis glanced with minglea surprise and ad- 
miration at the animated features ot his spirited confidante. Ac- 
customed to Rose’s calm, persuasive reasoning and the half -earnest, 
half-playful, but wffiolly bewitching manneisot sweet Annie Grant, 
Laura’s keen wit and fearless bearing surprised and pleased him, 
while, at the same time, they insensibly influenced him. ” 1 will 
trust you,” he said; ” you have the strong sense and bold energy of 
a man’s mind, united with all the gentleness and reflnement which 
are woman’s especial attributes. I will audMo trust 3 ^ou fully; but, 
alas! dear friend,” he continued, sorrowfully, ‘ neither you nor any 
one else can remove the cause of iny unhappiness. 1 will not at- 
leir.pt to deceive you or myself; despite my best endeavors to forget 
her, I can not, and 1 am miserable; 1, who deemed myself so strong, 
am powerless to cast this affection from me; and though 1 despise 
her for her weak fickleness, though 1 scorn her for allowing herself 
to be contracted to that man of whom 1 never can bear to think as 
the brother ot your kind-hearted, liberal-niinded husband, 1 yet love 
lier with the reasonless passion of an idiot.” 

‘‘ Yon lake too gloomy a view of the affair; she may not he so 
much to blame as you imagine; she may yet prove worthy of your 
affection,” urged Laura. 

‘‘ Would to heaven it could be so!” exclaimed Lewis, vehement- 
ly. ‘‘You bid me consiiler the matter calmly and sensibly,” he 
continued, after a pause; ‘‘ by doing so 1 perceive the hopes with 
which you would fain inspire me, to he unreasonable and delusive. 
Facts speak fur themselves, and as they remain unalterable, so must 
my grief. Eitlier she can not return my affection, and is attached 
10 her intended bridegroom^ or loving me, she has, with the most 
culp.'ible weakness, allowed herself to be persuaded into an engage- 
ment with a man every w^ay unworthy of her, to whom she is, to 
say the least, inditierent; and this, not in consequence of a length- 
ened persecution, but in twenty four hours after 1 have left her, 
fondly deeming that had fate allowed me to ask her hand she would 
not have refused it.” 

” It is very strange, very unaccountable,” returned Laura, mus- 
ing, ‘‘ so much so indeed that 1 feel sure we do not 3 "et know the 
whole truth, and that there must be some way ot explaining her 
conduct satisfactorily.’' 

Lew’is shook his head mournfully. 

” Farewell,” he said; ‘‘ you will soou be able to judge for your- 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 867 

self, and will find that the view I take of the affair, gloomy as it 
may appear, is indeed the only true one.” 

“You will dine with us to-day? Charles particularly wishes it. 
You must not refuse. Remember, it will be the last time tor some 
weeks that 1 may have an opportunity of seeing you,” pleaded 
Laura. 

“ 1 do not know why I consent, except that it seems impossible 
to say no to you,” returned Lewis, unable to resist the influence of 
Jjaura’s sympathetic kindness. “ Y du will find me a dreadful 
I bore,” he continued, with a deep sigh, “for your intelligence has 
I completely unmanned me.” 

I “ We will take the chance of that,” replied Laura, with an in- 
credulous smile; and so, shaking hands, they parted. 

Ihe dinner passed off heavily enough. Lewis, despite his efforts 
to the contrary, appeared out of spirits and distrait. Charles, hav- 
ing been cautioned and tutored, to the utmost of temale foiesight, 
as to what he vras to say, and what to avoid, grew- nervous and puz- 
zle-pated; called Laura Annie, and asked Lewis why he did not 
send tor Miss Grant, meaning his, Lewis’s sister Ro^^e, co live with 
him and keep his house; by which blunders he provoked his wife 
to such a degree that she could have found in her lieart to box his 
ears for him, without the smallest compunction. The ai rival of 
Tarky and the dessert produced a marked improvement, that young 
gentleman being in the highest possible state of health and spirits 
and influenced by a strong determination to partake of everything 
on the table, wine included, to ignore all establislied precedents to 
eating lain by the intervention of a spoon, to consider walnuts ap- 
propiiate missiles to throw at the company generally, and the cut- 
glass decanters in particular, to set maternal authority at defiance, 
as evinced by a resolution to pull oft his left shoe and imbed it in 
orange marmalade, and, in fact, to do everything which appeared 
good in his eyes, and naughty in those of his elders, and then and 
there to make a night of it. These little antics, at first amusing, 
and secreily patronized and fostered by Charles and Lewis, soon be- 
coming tiresome, and at length unbearable, Laura asserted her pre- 
rogative, and not without much kicking and hysterical affection, 
which was neither laughing nor crying, but a compound of the two, 
succeeded in carrying away her unruly offspring. When the gen- 
tlemen tvere left to themselves, Leicester, filling his glass and hand- 
ing the bottle to Lewis, began; 

“ Do you mix much with the young men of the place, so as to 
judge ot their political bias at all?” 

“ 1 am acquainted with some dozen, or more, young artists though 
1 do not enter much into their pursuits for want "of inclination; 
though at first they pressed me to belonii to their clubs. 1 should 
say, however, judging from their conversation, that democratic 
principles were rife among them.” 

“1 fear so; indeed, from the. information we have received, 1 
should not be surprised if some attempt were likely to be made to 
throw off the Austrian y^oke.” 

“ Surely that would be great folly.” returned Lewis, “ with the 
troops and resources the governor. Count Palffy, has at his com- 
mand, any popular tumult might easily be quelled. It is only from 


368 


LEWIS ARUXDEL. 


cowardice oi inaction on the part of Ibe uui’iorities, that any of 
these successes in Korlhetn Italy have been achieved/’ 

“ Ay, but inaction is just what 1 fear,” rejoined Leicester; “ the 
Austri. ns will not believe in tiie amount ot popular disaffection 
which exists; they will ffo on ignoring the danger, till the moment 
it could be most successtully combated has escaped tliem. Not 
that 1 care very much about the matter; 1 am neither Trojan nor 
Tyrian; but 1 am anxious to gain some certainty as to tiie chance 
of a popular outbreak, that 1 may take measures to provide tor the 
safety of Laura and the child; besides, 1 think you are aware we 
have some guests coming to us; had 1 known this sooner, 1 should 
have written to them to postpone their visit till some more favora- 
ble opportunity.” 

‘‘1 will investigate the matter,” reurned Lewis, eagerly, “and 
will communicate to you any information 1 may obtain; 'women 
should never be exposed to the chance of witnessing the horrors of 
street warfare.” 

After conversing on this topic for some minutes longer, the gen- 
tlemen being neither of them addicted to the practice of wine-bib- 
bing, follow’ed Laura to the drawing-room. Lewis appeared silent 
and depressed, and a gloom hung over the little parly, which no 
effort on the part of the hosiess could dispel. 

boon after ten o’clock their guest rose to take leave. 

“ 1 shall send Charles to you very often, and, if possible, without 
attracting attention, 1 shall occasionally come with him,” observed 
Laura; “ so mind you are not to freeze up again into a marble mis- 
anthrope. 1 consider 1 have impioved you vastly since you have 
been under my tuition, and I by no means desire to have labored in 
vain.” 

“ You liave shown me kindness which I never may be able to 
repay,” answered Lewis; “but to prove that 1 neither forget nor 
feel ungrateful for it, 1 will struggle against the faults you so just- 
ly reprobate; if 1 sometimes fail, you must remember that it is diffi- 
cult to preserve a cheerful, easy manner, w’ith an aching heart, and 
so pardon me.” 

Having taken a cordial leave of his host and hostess, and refused 
Charles’s offer of walking home with him, partly because he knew 
it would be an act of self-denial in his friend to relinquish his wife’s 
society, partly because he wished to be alone, Lewis quitted the Pa- 
lazzo Grassini, and strolled on in the direction of his own abode. 
As he passed under the Piazza ot St. Mark’s, a particularly beauti- 
ful effect of moonlight on the opposite buildings struck him, and 
leaning against one ot the columns, lie paused to observe it. The 
place where he was standing was in deep shadow, and to any one 
approaching from the left his figure was invisible, the massive col- 
umn effectually concealing it. Ilaving thoroughly lixed in his re- 
collection the appearance which had attracted him, and which he 
proposed to transfer to canvas, he was about to quit the Piazza, 
when a figure wrapped in a dark mantle advanced with a quick yet 
stealthy tread. As the new-comer approaclied the spot where Lewis 
was stationed, a low^ whistle pierced thr air, and immediately a sec- 
ond figure, also disguised in a dark robe, appeared from behind a 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 369 

pillar which had hitherto concep.led him, and addressing the other, 
observed: 

“ You are late: 1 have waited for you.” 

‘‘The delay was unavoidable, signor,” was the reply; ”1 was 
forced to wait myself tor Paulo, as until 1 had seen liim, 1 could 
not bring you the password.” 

” And what is it?” inquired the first speaker, eagerly. I'he other 
glanced round vdlh a suspicious air, as he replied: ” 1 Martiri di 
Gosenza. ’ ’* 

‘‘ Good!” w^as the rejoinder; ‘‘ and the place of meeting*!!” 

” The great hall of the Palazzo iani,” naming one of the many 

ruined palaces which are to be found in Venice. 

” Wisely chosen,” observed the first speaker, who appeared of a 
rank superior to his companion; “the time of meeting must be at 
hand!” 

“ If Vossignoria proceeds thither leisurely, the hour will strike 
as you reach the appointed rendezvous.” 

“ 'Tis well,” was the reply. “ Now leave me; we had better not 
be seen together.” 

The person addressed raised his hat as a token of respect, and turn- 
ing, hurried from the spot. His confederate paused a moment, as 
it in deliberation, and then strolled leisurely away in the direction 

of the Palazzo iani. Lewis waited till the echoes ot his retreating 

footsteps died away in the distance, then starting in the direction of 
his owm dwelling, he walked with rapid strides till he reached the 
corner of one of the less frequented streets; having done so, he 
struck down it, runninjr at a pare which tew could have kept up 
with, till he approached his own house, when he again moderated 
his speed. Lettinir himselt m with a private key, he entered his sit- 
ting-room, took a brace of small pistols from a drawer, loaded them 
carefully, and concealing them in a breatt-pocket, flung a dark 
cloak over his shoulders, and again quitted the room. His determi- 
nation was taken. Accident having put him in possession of the 
lime and place ot some secret meeting, as well as the password 
which he doubted not would insure his admission, his love of ad- 
venture occasioned him instantly to resolve to he present at it. The 
assembly was doubtless of a political nature, and besides gratifying 
his laste for excitement, he might obtain some intormalion in re- 
gard to the probability of a popular insurrection, and thus satisfy 
Leicester’s anxiety for the safety of his wife and child — in which 
(though Lewu's would not own the motive even to himself) might be 
involved that of Annie Grant. That the expedition he projected was 
a dangerous one, he was well aware, but he trusted to chance and to 
his own tact and presence of mind to save him from discovery, and 
in case of these tailing him, he possessed two pistols as a last re- 
source. Twenty minutes’ brisk walking brought him beneath the 
walls of the Palazzo iani. 

Pausing under the shadow of the building, he waited till be had 
seen tw’o or three persons, carefully muffled up, proceeding in a 

* The brothers Bandiera, two youths of high patrician Venetian descent, were 
denounced to the Austrian government, and shot as conspirators at Gosenza, 
June 25th, 1844, 


370 


LEWIS ARUNDEL 


particular direction. Conjectuiing from llieir appearance and evi- 
dent desire to escape observation, that they were bound on the same 
errand as himself, he followed with a ipiick but noiseless step the 
next man wlio passed. This peison walked on rapidly till he 
re&ched a small archway; here he slopped and looked around as if 
tu assure himself that he vvas not followed, when, perceiving Lewis, 
beseemed embarrassed, and after a moment’s deliberation, during 
which he scrutinized the young artist’s figure narrowly, he stationed 
himself in the center of the path, as if to intercept Lewis’s further 
progress. As he approaehed, the stranger advanced a step to meet 
him, observing in Italian: 

“ The signor walks late, and chooses a strange path; may 1 
venture to inquire his object in so doing?" 

“ The same as your own,” returned Lewis, sternly; adding in a 
tone of command: “ We are loo late already; lead the wa3^” 

The person thus addressed, in whom, from a slight peculiarity 
in his accent, Lewis recognized him who had appeared the interior 
ot the two speakers whose conversation he had overheard in the 
Piazza of St. Mark, seemed for a moment uiulecided how to act: 
and then, either deeeived by Lewis’s manner, or purposing to post- 
pone any further investigation till he should obtain the assistance 
of the other conspirators, he passed through the archwa}^ and turn- 
ing abruptly to the right liand, ran up a flight ot stone steps termi- 
nated by a low door elosely studded with large iron nail heads. Giv- 
ing a low whistle, some one from within partially opened the door, 
and the stranger entered, followed by Lewis. The moment he had 
done so, the door was shut and bolted behind him, and he found 
himself in total darkness, wdiile at the same instant he felt his arms 
pinioned by a powerful grasp, wLile a gruff voice exclaimed: 

“ Give me the password!” 

” 1 Martiridi Cosenza'' replied Lewis, firndy. 

” Proceed,” was the rejoinder, as the grasp was removed from 
his arms, and the light ot a dark lantern w^as thrown along the nar- 
row stone passage in which Lewis now found himself. Having 
traversed this, a second door opened at his approach, a rush ot cold 
air streamed upon him, and he found himself in a large dimly light- 
ed chamber, in which were assembled somewhere about thirty per- 
sons, who were gathered round a long table, at the upper end of 
which stood a man, who, with his arm extended, and his whole 
bearing indicative of strong excitement, wuis addressing the meeting. 
Drawing the collar of his cloak more over his face, and choosing a 
spot where the shadow of one of the heavy columns which sup- 
ported the roof, served in some measure to conceal him, Lewis 
joined the group. As he did so, the speaker, glancing with flashing 
eyes round the assembly, exclaimed: 

” We arc resolved, then — the cup is full to overflowing — we will 
bow no longer beneath the yoke of foreign tyrants. Our brethren 
in Milan have set us a glorious exainple— the accursed Austrian al- 
ready tTcmbles before their valor; Italy has shaken off her lethargy; 
we have only to be true to ourselves, and to the glorious cause, and 
liberty awaits our efforts.” 

A subdued murmur of consent and approbation ran through the 
assembly, and the sj^eaker continued : 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


371 


“ Thus agreed, then, it only remains for us to act, and our first 
duty is to succor those who suffered for our sakes. These heroes, 
tliose friends of the Venetian people, Daniel Manin and Nicolo 
Tomniaseo, lan<;uish in an unjust imprisonment; we will demand 
their liberation, and that with a voice that shall torce the tyrants to 
listen; the voice of an awakened and indignant nation/' 

As the speaker ceased, amidst a subdued buzz of approbation, a 
man in the dress of an artisan arose, and rolling his tierce, blood- 
shot eyes around the assembly, exclaimed: 

“ Yes, brotiiers, we will liberate our brave compatriots; Manin and 
Tommaseo shall be set free to aid in the struggle for our liberty ; 
but we must do more. Venice must rise and cast out these foreign 
butchers. A blow must be dealt which snail strike terror into their 
coward hearts, a blow which shall prove to them the fate they may 
expect, it they dare to oppress and withstand a people struggling 
for their freedom. And on whom can it so justly fall as on the 
arch-tyrant, sold hand and soul to Austria, thirsting only for venge- 
ance and for murder —the base persecutor Marinovich?” 

He paused; there was a moment’s silence, and then a low whis- 
per went round the assembly: “Death to Marinovich!” There 
was again a pause, and then men began to communicate with one 
another in deep muttered tones. After a short interval the first 
speaker, who had been writing rapidly, arose, and again addressing 
them, said: 

“We are, then, agreed, and our first act shall be the liberation of 
Manin and Tommaeeo. It is time that we disperse as silently and 
cautiously as may be; we must creep now that we may soar nere- 
after.” 

In order not to interrupt the thread of our narrative, we have de- 
scribed the proceedings as they occurred. We must now revert to 
Levvis. During the delivery of the first speech, he observed that 
the man who had addressed him as he entered, and who appeared a 
tall, muscular young fellow, had contrived to place himself by his 
side, and was regarding him from time to time with looks of mis- 
trust and suspicion. At the proposal tor the assassination ol Colonel 
Marinorich, the commandant at the arsenal, a man \Vhom, thougli 
a strict disciplinarian, Lewis knew by report to be a brave and gal- 
lant officer, he had been unable to repress some slight sign of disap- 
probation. As he did so he perceived a scowl pass over the 
features of his watcher, who took the opportunity of drawing yet 
nearer to him, while an accidental movement revealed the unpleas- 
ant fact that he hell in his hand a naked stiletto. As the president 
ended his final address, Lewis, who had kept his eye fixed on the 
features of his dangerous neighbor, felt convinced that the man 
only awa ted the termination of the business proceedings to de- 
nounce him to his fellow-conspirators. With his usual coolness 
and decision in moments of danger, Lewis saw that his only chance 
of safety lay in taking the initiative. Accordingly, catching the 
man’s eye, he fixed on him a piercing glance, as he said, in a stern 
whisper : 

“ The first word you utter aloud, you are a dead man;’’ at the 
same time he presented the muzzle of a pistol within an inch of his 
ear. The man started slightly, and attempted to increase the dis- 


37 ?. 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


tauce between them, but Lewis laid an iron arasp upon bis collar, 
and detained him. He then stood tora moment irresolute; at length 
he said, in the same tow whisj’»er: 

“ You are an Austrian soy."’ 

“ I am not,” returned Levyis: “ 1 am an Englishman.” 

The other again started, regarded him ti.xedly, and then resumed: 

” fcwear all you hold sacred never to reveal that which you 
have learned to-night.” 

‘‘1 will swear nothing, except to blowout your brains if you 
attempt to speak or move without my permission,” was the stern, 
uncompromising rejoinder. 

The stranger’s lip quivered, and his grasp tightened on the stiletto, 
but he caught the glance of Levvis’s flashing eye, and he felt that 
he was in earnest, and that his life hung upon a thread. The 
members of the secret association were, by this time, noiselessy 
gliding away in parties of two and three, and Lewis, fearing if he 
remained too long he might attract the attention of the president, 
wmo stilt continued writing at the table, determined to depart; ac- 
cordingly, he said, in a low whisper: 

” Kow we will go — precede me; but if 1 observe you attempt by 
word or sign to betray me, that moment 1 shoot you like a dog.” 

The stranger, w ho seemed by this lime sullenly to have resigned 
himself to his fate, or, possibly, to be reserving liis strength for the 
execution of some scheme which he had devised for the future, 
obeyed in silence, and left the vault, closely followed by Lewis, 
who still retained a firm grasp of the other’s collar, although the 
ample folds of his cloak prevented the fact from being observed. 
In this manner they reached the door at the top of the stairs, and 
here were stationed two brawuy-limbed, rufflanly looking fellows, 
who acted in the double capacity ot portei and sentry. Tlieir atten- 
tion, however, appearly solely directed to prevent the intrusion of 
any unwelcome visitant, the advisability of refusing egress to any 
one who had already passed their scrutiny never seeming to occur to 
them. This Lewis felt to be the deciding moment of bis fate; 
once outside tne gate he w'ould be iu comparative safety. Press- 
ing the muzzle ot bis pistol against the back of bis companiou's 
neok by way of a gentle hint, be muttered: “Remember!” 

The young man shuddered slightly as the cold iron touched him, 
but made no reply. As they reached the gateway, the janitor 
stationed on the left side, addressing Lewis’s companion, made 
some inquiry iu a low voice. Glancing round appealingly as it to 
indicate that he was forced, even for their common safety, to reply, 
he spoke a few w’ords in a dialect Lewis did not comprehend, when 
the gate-keeper respectfully held the wicket open, ami the}’ passed 
out. And now once agaiu Lew’is felt that he w^as a free man, and 
he inwardly congraiulated himself on having escaped so great a 
peril, which congratulations were, as the event proved, somewhat 
premature. 

Having descended the steps, Lewis loosened his hold on the 
stranger’s collar, saying carelessly, as he replaced his pistol in his 
breast : 

“ There, young gentleman; thanks to your prudence and my 
precaution of bringing a brace of pistols with me, 1 have drawn my 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


373 

head out ot the lion’s mouth without having it bitten off for n-}" 
pains. But now 1 want to have a little serious conversation with 
you.’' 

“ Wait till we are further from Palazzo iani, then/^ was the 

reply, in a voice that yet trembled tioin excitement, or some other 
deep emotion; “we maybe overheard; keep more in the shade of 
the buildings.” 

Suspecting no treachery, Lewis complied. Scarcely had he done 
so, however, when he fancied he heard a stealthy footstep follovting 
him, and turning abruptly, found himselt face to face with a tall, 
savage-looking ruffian, who, armed with a naked stiletto, was evi- 
dently meditating mischief. Contused by his sudden motion, the 
fellow stood for a moment irresolute. Not so his intended victim. 
The path along which he had been proceedimr followed the course 
of one of the smaller rii or canals, by w'hich Venice is in so many 
directions intersected. Availing himself ot this circumstance, 
Lewis rolled his cloak round his arm, and sprung upon his assailant, 
parrying, with the shield thus constituted, a haslv and ineffectual 
stab which the other madK at him. Foiled in his attempt, the ruffian 
drew back to avoid Lewis’s onset, thereby incautiously approach- 
ing too near the bank of the canal. His antagonist was not slow to 
perceive the opportunity thus afforded him. Following up his re- 
treating foe so as to prevent him from turning to perceive his danger, 
he waited till the man reached the brink of the canal, then stretch- 
ing out his toot, he tripped him up, and parrying a second stab as 
he^ had done the former one, pushed him over the bank, which at 
that part was somewhat steep. A heavy fall and a loud splash in 
the water announcea that his stratagem had suceeded, but at the 
same moment he felt his throat compressed by a powertul grasp, a 
naked stiletto flashed betore him, and the eyes of the young con- 
spirator, burning with haired and revenge, glared at him through 
the darkness wdili the ferocity of those of some savage animal. Up 
to this point Lewis’s courage and self-possession had never for amo- 
ment failed him, but now a strange wild idea occurred to him, and 
a horrible dread suddenly overwhelmed him; his senses reeled, his 
limbs trembled, and for the first time in Uia life he experienced the 
mental agony of fear. Instinctively he seized the uplifted wu’ist of 
his assailant, and gazed with starting eyeballs at his face, on wdiich 
the cold moonlight streamed. Yes, there could be no doubt; in the 
features of the being w'ith whom he was engaged in deadly con- 
flict, he recognized a dark, shadowy, but most unmistakable resem- 
blance to Hardy, the poacher. Was it incipient madness or was he 
thus horribly to be convinced of the reality of tales which he had 
hitherto deemed the mere drivelings of superstition? Could the 
dead indeed arise from their graves to seek vengeance on their 
sla3^ers? 

As iliese thoughts flashed, meteor-like, through his brain, bis an- 
tagonist made a violent but ineffectual effort to free his wrist, and 
this action in great measure restored Lewis's self-possession. Ghosts 
had not thews and sinew's, and even in that moment of peril, a 
flush of shame at his childish terror spread over his brow, and the 
impulse seemed to lend redoubled vigor to his frame. Consequently 
the struggle, though severe, was short. Superior in strength to his 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


assailant. Lewis, having succeeded in wresting the dagger from his 
grasp, hurled it into the canal, leaving him completely unarmed, 
and at his mercy. The stranger was the first to speak. Folding 
his arms across his breast with an air of dogged resolution, he said, 
speaking for the first time in English, and without the slightest 
foreign accent: “ You were wrong to throw away that weapon; it 
would have done your work as eftectually and more silently than 
the pistol.” 

‘‘ Aou consider your life as forfeit, then?” inquired Lewis. 

‘‘ 1 expect you to do by me as 1 would have done by you,” was 
the concise reply. 

“ 1 am no assassin,” returned Lewis, coldly; ” and that reminds 
me of your worthy associate. A"ou engaged my attention, so 1 am 
ignorant whether he sunk oi swam.” 

” JNever fear for honest Jacopo,” was the answer; '* he follows 
the calling of a gondolier when his stiletto is not in requisition, and 
can swim like a fish. Look yonder; he has gained the shore, and 
is even now watching us.” 

As he spoke, Lewis observed a tall figure crouching undei a pro- 
jecting portion of the bank of the canal. 

” He will not molest you further,” continued his late antagonist. 
‘‘ Once foiled in his spring, like the tiger, he will not renew the 
attack. Had he slain you, 1 should have paid him fiVQ zimnzigers) 
as it is, the poor fellow will only get his ducking for his pains.” 

” Why did he follow us?” asked Lewis. 

” As you entered, 1 gave him a hint not to let you pass on your 
return. Had he attempted to stop you, however, 1 believed you 
would shoot me; therefore, thinking 1 could obtain your death or 
capture without losing my own life, 1 gave him a glance by which 
he knew he was not to interrupt you. He then asked me in the 
thieves’ patois of the place, what he was to do, and 1 told him to 
follow us, as you were a spy. You know the rest.” 

Lewis paused for a moment, and then said, abruptly: “You are 
an Englishman?’ ’ 

” 1 am.” 

” You will accompany me to my rooms,” rejoined Lewis. ” 1 
would question you further.” 

” For what purpose?” 

” That you will learn at a fitting time,” returned Lewis. 

“AVhatif 1 refuse?” 

” 1 will summon the police, and it you attempt to escape, 1 will 
shoot you through the head,” was tlie stern rejoinder. 

” 1 will go with you,” replied the stranger; ” but 1 w^arn you 1 
will not be arrested — my liberty is dear to me, my life I hold cheap 
— so cheap that even now, unarmed as 1 am, and unequal in mus- 
cular strength, 1 am tempted again to rush on you and try the 
chances of a deatli struggle.” 

” 1 would advise you not to do so,” returned Lewis, calmly; 
“besides,” he added, “1 maybe more disposed to befriend you 
than you are aware of; it is with no hostile purpose 1 thus force you 
to accompany me, believe me.” 

‘‘ i will trust you,” was the reply. “ A^our looks and words 
have, 1 know not why, a si range power over me. You must possess 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


375 


the ^ift of the Maloccliio, which these Italians believe in. It was 
your sjlance far more than your pistol, which l?eot me silent in the 
chamber of meeting.’" 

During almost the whole of this conversation, they had been walk- 
ing side by side in the direction of the street in which Lewis’s studio 
was situated, and in another five minutes they reached it. 

“ Have I your word of honor that you will not again attempt niy 
life or seek to escape till our interview is concluded?” asked Lewis. 

“ You have,” was the concise reply. 

‘‘Follow me then,” continued Lewis; and drawing a key from 
his pocket, he unfastened the door, entered, closed it again, and ac- 
companied by the stranger, led the way through the painting-room 
into his study. Removing his bat and cloak, he signed to his com- 
panion to follow his example. As the other complied with his re- 
quest, Lewis, having lighted a powerful lamp by the aid of which 
he was accustomed to paint at night, was enabled to take a moie 
particulai survey of his new acipiaintance than circumstance had 
yet permitted. He was a tall, powtrtully built stripling, with dark 
complexion and handsome feeitures, but although he liad scarcely 
numbered twenty years, his face wore a prematurely old expression, 
and there was a wild, reckless look in his eyes, which told ot a 
spirit ill at ease. He wore a sailor’s dress, though the materials ot 
which it was composed were of a finer quality than ordinary; he 
coldly refused the chair which Lewis offered him, and folding his 
arms across his breast, waited to be quesli(»ned. Lewis, in the 
meantime, took his seat at the table, placed the pistols on the desk 
before him, and fixing his piercing glance on the face of his captive, 
began : 

” My knowledge of you is this. 1 find you an active and zealous 
member of a conspiracy to overthrow the Austrian Government in 
this city— one of a set of conspirators whose first act is to be the as- 
sassination of Colonel Marinovich, commandant at the arsenal. As 
far as 1 am concerned, you first resolved to denounce me to your 
associates as a spy; foiled in that attempt, you incite an accomplice 
to murder me, and on his failure, use your best endeavors to stab 
me yourself, in the struggle 1 disarm you, and you find yourself 
in the power ot a man for whose blood you have been thirsting. 
Even allowing, for the sake of argument, that you were justified in 
seeking the life ot one who might betray your treasonous disigns, 
3 "ou still remain the convicted conspirator, and my natural course 
would be to hand you over to the police; for your threat of never 
being taken alive is absurd, since having lost your stilet<o, 1 coul 1 
nave captured you at any moment 1 pleased; however, the fact of 
your being an Englishman interests me in your behalf, and it you 
will answer my questions frankly and truly, 1 may be induced to 
let you off. In the first place tell me who 3 mu are, and enough of 
your former life to enable me to understand how 1 thus find you 
plotting with foreigners, with whom you can have no feelings in 
common, for an evil purpose.” 

” I can soon satisfy you, if that is all you require,” was’, the re- 
ply. ” My life has from its commencement been a curse to myself 
and to others. Wrong has produced wdong; 1 w{is badly brought 
up, and have turned out badly, 1 am not the first that has done so, 


376; 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


nor sliall 1 be the hist. At the age when most cliiklren are carefully 
traiued to good, 1 was as sedulously iiistrucled in evil. At twelve 
years old, I could swear, game, an I drink, and my instructors 
laughed to see the boy aping the vices of the man. j\ly mother 
died in giving me birth; my father, 1 know not why, nev^er loved 
me. He used me harshly and 1 hated him for it. 8 o 1 left my 
home, and worked for lour years on board a man of-war. At the 
end of that time the ship was paid oft. Seeking pleasure, 1 fell into 
vicious company, squandered, and was robbed of my pay, and lor 
some weeks 1 w*andered a houseless beggar thiough London streets. 
The chance kindness of a stranger rescued me'^froin that state of 
wretchedness.” A peculiar expression flitted across the features of 
his auditor a? he mentioned the fact of his rescue from begirary; 
not observing it, he continued: ” I then entered the merciiant- 
service, and speeddy rose to the rank of male. The misery 1 had 
undergone rendered me more careful. 1 saved money, studied my 
profession, and hoped in time to become a captain of a merchant- 
man. 1 embarked the whole Df my savings in a trading specula- 
tion, which would more than have doubled them, when the ship 
containing my property w^as WTecked. 1 w'as picked up by a vessel 
bound to this port, and was landed here again a beggar, and after 
trying in vain to procure any better situation, 1 have been forced to 
work in the arsenal as a common laborer to save myself from starva- 
tion. But even there my id-foitune and the cruelty and injustice 
of men followed me. Peculation to a great extent was discovered 
among the workmen. 1 was examined before Colonel Marinovich; 
in vain 1 protested my innocence. God knows 1 have committed 
sins enough; but thieving and lyinff were never among them. 
However, 1 w^as condemned to receive forty lashes. Yes, sir; I, 
uii Englishman, innocent of the crime of w^hich 1 was accused, was 
beaten like a slave by the orders of a tyrannical foreigner, and now, 
perhaps you can tell what took me to the meeting to-night. It was 
the hope of revenge, and there were others there with the same 
deadly purpose. The man wdio proposed the assassination of Mari- 
novich was innocent as m 3 "self, and like me had smarted beneath the 
tyrant’s lash. You, by revealing this plot, threatened to cheat us 
of our just revenge, and for that reason 1 would have sacrificed 
your life. And now you know my history, w'hat will you do with 
me?” 

There was a moment’s pause ere Lewis, fixing his eyes on him 
with a clear, penetrating glance, said, slowdy and impressively: 

” There are a tew minor particulars wliich appear to have escaped 
your memory, 1 will try to supply the deficiency. You were born 

in the village of B , in 11 shire. Your early instructors in 

evil were the worthless characters who accompanied your father on 
his poaching expeditions. You left home because in a drunken 
mood your father struck 3 ^ 011 , and w'ould not conless afterward that 
he was sorry for so doing. You would have run away sooner, but 
tor yom aftection foi your sister Jane. Tlie stranger wlio rescued 
3 ^ou from l)eggar 3 ^ was a young man who met 3 ^ou by chance at the 

door of a house in Street, Russell Square. You begged of 

him in Italian; the merchant ship in which you served, to whose 
commander he gave you an introduction, was the ‘Beauty,’ of 


LEWIS ARUNEEL. 377 

Soutbsea, Captain Singleton, and your name is IVliles Hard}'. Am 1 
not correct in these particulars?” 

When Lewis began speaking, his companion’s attention became 
riveted. As he proceeded his surprise grew deeper and deeper; but 
when he mentioned his name, he sprung forward, and legarding 
• him with wildly gleaming eyes, exclaimed: ‘‘Tell me, what are 
you — man or devil, who thus know every secret ot my life?” 

‘‘ J am no devil,'’ returned Lewis, smiling; ‘‘but a mortal like 
yourself. You have seen me betore. Look well at me; do you not 
recognize me?” 

Thus appealed to, the young man carefully scanned his features, 
and then, in a low, hesitating voice, rejoined; ” You are, or 1 am 
much mistaken, Iho gentleman who rescued me from beggary.” 

” YY)u are right,” was the reply; “we are both much changed 
since that night, but 1 knew you at the moment you seized me by 
the throat.” 

‘‘ Thank God, 1 did pot succeed in taking your life!” exclaimed 
Miles Hardy, passionately. ‘‘ You are almost the only person who 
has ever shown me disinterested kindness, and how have 1 sought 
to repay it! On, sir, can you forgive me? ” 

” The simple fact that you did not recognize me exonerates you 
from the charge of ingratitude, my poor boy,” returned Lewis, 
kindly; “ but now sit down. Ere 1 explain to you how 1 gained 
the knowledge which has so much surprised you, you have a long 
tale to listen to, and one which will cause yem much sorrow'. You 
turn pale; wait, 1 will get you a glass of wine.’' 

‘‘It is nothing,” was the reply. ‘‘1 have fasted long; it wull 
pass away in a moment;” but as he spoke he sunk heavily into a 
chair wdiieli stood beside him. 

liewis produced from a cupboard food and wine, and placing 
them before him, induced him to partake of some refresh meut, aud 
soon had the satisfaction of seeing the light letiirn to his eyes and 
the color to his cheek. Lewis then filled for himself a glass of 
wine, replenished that of his companion, and seating himself, 
hastened to relate to Miles Hardy tlie strange train of events by 
means of which he had become acquainted with so large a portion 
of the young man’s history. 


CHAPTER LIV. 

WALTER SEES A GHOST I 

The feelings with which Miles Hardy listened to the account of 
his unhapp}^ father’s career, and the mingled grief and anger with 
which he heard how the heritgge of his mother’s shame had de- 
scended to his unfortunate sister, may easily be imagined. Lew'is 
strove with an amount of patient kindness, for wliich those w’ho 
only knew the fiery side of his character would scarcely have given 
him credit, to soothe the passionate emotions which his tale excited 
in an auditor so nearly concerned in the fortunes of those to whom 
it r»dated. After long perseverance his efforts were in some degree 
crowned with success. Miles became more calm, and agreed with 
Lewis that his first duty was to seek for, and eudeavor to reclaim 


878 


LEWIS AKUKDEL. 


Lis sister. His share ot the legacy would furnish him with funds 
sufhcient to enable him to live without the necessity of daily labor, 
and until his right to the money should be established, Lewis in- 
sisted on becoming his banker. The next question was not so easily 
ariangeil. Lewis informed Miles that in regard to the events ot the 
evening he had arrived at the following determination, viz., to call 
on Colonel Marinovich, make him acquainted with the plot against 
his life, beg him to inform his superiors that such a conspiracy was 
on foot, and explain the manner in which he had become aware ot 
its existence; but as far as Miles was concerned in the affair, he 
would promise to preserve a total silence on one condition; namely, 
that he. Miles, should withdraw from the conspiracy and engage to 
keep the peace in regard to the commandant of the arsenal. To 
this proposition the young man demurred. 

“ What,’* he said, “ give up my just revenge? submit to unde- 
served chastisement like a beaten hound and leave it to less tame 
and slavish spiiils to punish the tyrant for his cruelty? allow them 
to meet the danger and divide the glory, while 1 stand by inactive? 
Never!” 

” Believe me, Miles,” reiurned Lewis, earnestly, ‘‘ revenge, even 
just revenge, partakes ot the nature ot sin, and brings upon him 
who obtains it the curse of an upbraiding conscience. But yours is 
not a just revenge; you have suffered wrong and the sense of this 
blinds your judgment. 1 know b.y report the character of this 
]Marinovich; 1 know him to be a just and honorable man, though a 
stein disciplinarian. Great abuses had existed at the arsenal, and it 
was in order to reform them that the command was bestowed on 
him; in your iiKiividual case he has acted unjustly, but iu all 
probability, appearances were strongly against you, and he had uo 
sufffeieut personal acquaintance with you to know that among such 
inveterate liars as are the majority of the lower order of Venetians, 
your word might be relied on. Ills only fault is, therefore, that 
he committed an error in judgment, and w’^ould you on this account 
take a man’s life? Besides, conniving at assassination is a coward- 
ly proceeding, unworthy any Englishman and especially a brave 
young fellow like yourself.” 

It was evident that Lewis’s reasoning was not without its effect 
on him whom he addressed, for his brow contracted, his fing(‘rs 
closed and relaxed, his mouth quivered convulsively, and his wiiole 
demeanor was that of a person struggling against some powerful 
temptation. At length he exclaimed, abruptly: 

” 1 know not how it is, you sway me like a child. 1 had resolved 
not to rest till that man had died, but 1 never before saw the matter 
in the light in which you have now placed it. 1 believed that his 
death would be an act of justice, and considered that, in order to 
obtain it, we must take the'law into our own bands; but 1 feel the 
truth of what you say, that assassination is cowardly; 1 felt it 
when Jacopo was dogging your footsteps, and but for the cause 
that was at stake, could have found in my heart to wain you.” 

” Then you will agree to my proposal?” inquired Lewis. 

” Yes, 1 will agree to withdraw from the conspiracy, but it is at 
the risk of my life that 1 do so. If 1 am found iu Venice after my 
desertion is known, 1 am a dead man. Moreover, 1 will i^romise 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


379 


you to abstain from secretly attempting JVIarinovich's life; but if 
1 should ever meet him face to face, and hand to hand, 1 will teach 
him to remember having flogged an Englishman.” 

Lewis felt that in his new character of mentor, he ought to com- 
bat this openly declared resolution, but he abstained from doing so, 
partlj because he felt it would be useless, and partly because he 
sympathized so completely in the sentiment, that he could not mus- 
ter sufficient h 3 ^pocrisy to reprove it. 

Accordingly’, he remained satisfied with the concession he had 
gained, and furnishing Miles with all the information he possessed 
in regard to his sister, which was but vague and unsatisfactofy (a 
rumor that she had passed some time in Home, on her first arrival 
in that country, being the only trace he had yet been able to dis- 
cover of her proceedings), Lewis gave him an introduction to an 
agent whom he had employed to gain further tidings, and forcing 
a sum of money upon liim, more than sufficient to defray his ex- 
penses, hastened his departure, ere the brilliant rays of an Italian 
sun had spread the luster of the coming day throughout the pictur- 
esque old streets and palace-crowned squares of Venice. 

On the following morning Lewis fulfilleil his intention of call- 
ing on Colonel Marinovich, who heard his recital in silence, and 
when he had concluded, thanked him for his information, said he 
was aware great dissatisfaction existed among the men employed 
at the arsenal, and that energetic m^^asures must he taken to prevent 
its spreading further, promised to report the discovery of the secret 
meeting to the governor, took down Lewis’s address, and politely 
bowed him out. 

Having despatched a note to Charles Leicester, telling him he 
wished to see him, Lewis debated with himself how much of the 
previous night’s adventure he should reveal to him, and at length 
decided that it would be more prudent to avoid mentionhig his en- 
counter with, and recognition of Miles Hardy, as, although he had 
refused to reveal to him the name of I he seducer of his sister, yet 
any reference to an aftair in which Lord Bellefield had so singularly 
misconducted himself, must necessarily be pninful to Leicester. 
Moreover, although in his dealings w’ith Miles Haid 3 % Lewis had 
acted justly according to the best of his judgment, he was by no 
means* clear that the law might lake the same view of the matter. 
Charley listened to his friend’s account, yawned, wondered why he 
had such a strange predilection for putting his life in danger, 
prophesying that he would do it once too often, and be sorry for it 
afterward, expected there would be a shindy in Venice before long, 
wished Laura and the Drat were safe in England, and that the other 
people were not coming, voted it all an awful bore, asked Lewis 
whether he liked foreign tailoring, into the merits and demerits 
wherenf he entered at some length, yawned again, and patting him 
aftectionately on the back, told him to take better care of himself 
lor the future, and lounged carelessly out of the studio. 

A week passed away. The Grant party had arrived; Annie, 
although she made a great efl;ort to appear in her former spirits, was 
evidently laboring under some ailment, mental or bodily; or both 
combined, which was wearing away her youth, and changing her 


380 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


whole character. Laura, who watched her closely, observed that 
she was unusually silent and abstracted, tailing into long reveries, 
trom which she would awake with a start, and glancing round with 
a half -1 Tightened air, would immediately begin talking in an unnat- 
urally excited manner, as if to do away with any suspicion to 
which her silence mi 2 ht have jriven rise. Her temper also, w hich 
had been remarkable for its sweetness, had now become uncertain, 
and she occasionally answered ilie general wiJi a w'ayw’ard cap- 
tiousness which surprised Laura only one degree less than the pre- 
ternatural meekness with which that gallant officer submitted to her 
caprices and indulged her every wdiim; but the tad was, General 
Grant had sufficient acuteness to perceive, that for some cause, ut- 
terly beyoud the scope of his philosophy to account for, his daugh- 
ter was not the quiet, gentle, will-less creature she had been, and 
that if be required her to yield to him in great matttrs, he must 
allow her to rule in small. Moreover, he had lately become seriously 
alarmed about her health; a London physician, whom he had con- 
sulted on the subject, having plainly told him, unless great caution 
was observed she would go into a decline, and \yarned him that the 
seat of the disease appeared to be in the mind, and that anything 
like harshness or opposition should be avoided. Walter, too. was 
much changed during the two years wdiich had elapsed. In ap- 
pearance he w^as now a young man, tall, and slightly, but graceful- 
ly formed, with well-cut, regular features, though a w^ant of intel- 
lectual expression marred what might otherwise have been considered 
a handsome countenance. But, considerable ns was the alteration 
in his personal appearance, the change in his mental capacity was 
equall}^ perceivable. His powers of mind had developed to a greater 
degree than had been anticipated, but alas! deprived of Lewis’s 
firm, yet gentle rule, the improvement in his disposition had by no 
means kept pace with the extension of his faculties. For some 
weeks atter Lewis had quitted Bioadliurst, poor Waiter could not 
be persuaded but that he would come back again, nor was it till the 
arrival of a tutor, recommended by Lord Bel k field, that he fully 
realized the fact of his friend having lett him never to return. The 
first efiect this conviction produced upon him, ivas a fit of deep 
dejection. He refused all attempts at consolation could scarcely 
be persuaded to take nourishment, and sat hour after hour playing 
listlessly wdth the wav\y cm Is of Faust’s shagiry'coal. At length, 
in order to rouse him. General Grant desired the dog to be taken 
awav from him. 1 he remedy proved only too effectual. The new 
tutor, a certain Mr. Spooner, who appeared as if he hail been select- 
ed because he was in every respect the exact reverse of Lewis, was 
the person to whom the general intrusted this commission. 

Absorb d in his own sad thoughts, Walter allowed him to coax 
the dog from his side b}^ the attraction of a plate of meat, but when 
he laid his hand on the animal to buckle a collar and chain round 
his neck, he started up, exclaiming: 

“ What are you going to do with Fau<^t? He is never tied up; 
let him alone.” Finding tliat his remonstrance was not attended 
to, he continued: “ Faust! Faust! come here, sir, directly.” 

The dog struggled to obey, but Mr. Spooner, having fastened the 
diain round his neck, endeavored to force him out of the room, and. 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 381 

in doing so, stepped accidentally on Faust’s toes, who uttered a 
shrill yelp ot pain. Walter’s eyes flashed. 

“ You are hurting him,” he cried. “ How dare you!” and with- 
out waiiinc for a reply, he darted across the room, seized the aston- 
ished Mr. Spooner, who, unfortunately, happened to be a small, 
slightly- framed man, by the throat, and shook him till his teeth 
chattered. Then suddenly releasing him, he snatched the chain 
from his grasp, and leading the dog away, muttered in a threaten- 
ing tone: “ISeveryou touch Faust again; if you do I’ll strangle 
you.” 

The results of this scene were twofold: Walter had rebelled anti 
gained his point, and the person whom he had thus conyuered had 
lost all chance of obtaining that degree of ascendency over him 
without which his control must become merely nominal. This 
produced, as might be expected, the worst possible eflect upon poor 
Walter’s disposition. He became willful in the extreme, and his 
tutor, partly to save himself trouble, partly to avoid any outbreak 
ol temper, gave way to him on every occasion; unless, indeed, he 
had any purticular personal interest at stake, when he sought to 
gain his point by cajolery and maneuvering, and being rather an 
adept in tiiose ingenious arts, was usually successful. 

One new and inconvenient caprice of Walter’s was, a dislike 
which he appeared suddenly to have taken to Annie Grant, and 
which displayed iiselt in vaiious ways. Sometimes he would avoid 
all intercourse with her, even sulkily refusing to answer her when 
she spoke to him. At others he would seek her out and endeavor 
to annoy her by saying vrhat he deemed sliarp things to her. Occa- 
sionally, however, he would fall into his old habils, and confide in 
her as his playmate from whom he was sure ot sympathy and assist- 
ance: when suddenly, perhaps even in the midst of some conversa- 
tion with her, he would appejir to recollect his new-born naimosity, 
and his manner would entirely alter. One thing invariably excited 
his extreme indignation, and this w’as any attempt on her part to 
caress or notice Faust. The pain this altered demeanor caused Annie 
(peril ups in consequence of some theory w^hich she had formed as to 
its origin) was known but to her own heart, and could be guessed 
at merely by her unwearying efforts to conciliate poor Walter. 
Laura, upon whose quick-sightedness nothing w^as lost, carefully 
noted these changes, and made her own private comments upon 
them. In pursuance of her design of befriending Lewis, she made 
several attempts to penetrate the veil ot reserve which hung around 
Annie Grant; but in vain. With her lightness of heart seemed also 
to have departed her openness ot disposition, and Laura had too 
much good taste, as well as too much sympathy with her griet, to 
endeavor to torce her confidence. At length one day, as Laura and 
Annie were sitting together, Laura working zealously at some article 
of juvenile finery, destined unconsciously to foster the seeds ot in- 
cipient dandyism already apparent in that embryo nian-r.bout-lown 
” Tarley,” and Annie listlessl^’^ turning over the pages of a novel, 
from which her thoughts were far away, the elder lady suddenly 
broke silence by observing : 

‘‘Tarley will be two years old to-morrow; how the time slips 
away: it really seems impossible!” 


382 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


AuDie’s only reply was a deep sigh, and Laura continued: 

“ AVhy, Annie, you'll be ot age in a month. Four short weeks 
more, and you will actually have arrived at years ot discretion. 
Ilow wise you ought to be!” 

Finding Annie still remained silent, Laura only waited till she 
had passed some interesting crisis in her stitching, and then looked 
up. To her alarm and snrprise, she beheld the “ big tears ” silent- 
ly coursing each other down her friend’s pale cheeks. In an instant 
she was by her side. 

” Annie, dearest,” she said, ** you are weeping; wdiat is it? Have 
1 said or done anything to pain you?” 

Annie slightly shook her head in token of dissent, and made an 
effort to check her tears, which proving ineffectual, eventuated in a 
bitter sob. Laura could not stand the sight of her griet. Throw- 
ing her arms round her, she said : 

“ Annie, you are miserable. 1 see, 1 know you are, and your un- 
happiness is wearing you to death. Why will you not confide in 
me? Perhaps 1 might help you. What is it, darlingf Will you 
not tell me?” 

She paused for a reply, but obtaining none continued: ‘‘This 
marriage with Lord Bellefield, it is distasteful to you, 1 am afraid?” 

A shudder which passed through poor Annie's frame, as Lama 
mentioned the name ot her intended husband, proved that on this 
point her suspicions had not erred. Fancying she now saw her way 
more clearly: 

‘‘ Dearest,” she resumed, ‘‘ do not afflict yourself thus. You 
must not, shall not marry him. I will speak to the general myselt. 
Charles shall write to his brother; you shall not be sacrificed.” 

‘‘ Hush! hush!” interrupted Annie, struggling to recover com- 
posure; ‘‘ you do not know^ what you say. 1 muni marry him; there 
is no alteiuative.” 

‘‘ Do not say so, Annie,” returned Laura, gravely; ” marriage is 
a sacred thing, not lightly to be entered into, and in marriage one 
requisite alone is indispensable — love! Tastes may differ, faults 
of temper or disposition may exist, yet if man and wife truly love 
each ether, they will be very happy; but to marry wutliout love is a 
grievous sin, and it entails its own punishment — wretchedness.” 

Jjaura spoke solemnly, and with feeling, and Annie, as she list- 
ened, trembled and turned pale. When she had concluded, how- 
ever, Annie merely shook her head, repeating, hopeJessly: 

” It vauiit be — it must be!” 

” And pray, why must it be?” asked J jaura, quickly, for slie w'as 
becoming slightly provoked at that whicli she deemed Annie’s child- 
ish w’eakness— the only fault, perhaps, with which her clear head, 
warm heart, and earnest, zenlous nature unfitted her to sympathize. 

Why, if the thing is wrong in itself, and is to render you misera- 
ble, must it be? At all events, let us make some effort to prevent 
it. Suffer Charles and me — ” 

” Dearest Laura,” interrupted Annie, mournfully, ‘‘ I assure yon 
nothing can be done; any attempt to break off the match now 
would be unavailing, and end in making me still more w retched 
than 1 am at present.” 

Annoyed alike at her perseverance in that wliich Laura could not 


LEWTS AliTIKDEL. 


38B 


but consider a culpable want of moral courage, and at the way in 
which she still withheld her confidence, while at the same time the 
idea occurred to her, though she was vexed with herself for admit- 
ting it, that one so feeble-minded was no fitting bride for the high- 
soiiled brave-hearted Lewis, the spirited little matron was about to 
utter a somewhat sharp reply, when, glancing at ibnuie’s pale, beau- 
tifully formed features, the expression of deep anguish she read 
there disarmed her, and merely sa3ing: “ VTe take diflerent views 
of this matter, Annie, dear, and must talk of it again when we are 
botii more composed,’’ she rose and left the apartment. 

Annie waited until the sound of the closing door assured her that 
she was alone, and then murmuring: “ She too is angry with me 
and despises me— nobody loves me; oh, that 1 >svere dead!” she hid 
her face in the sofa-cushion, and gave way to a passionate burst of 
grief. 

Now, there is one of our dramatis persona) for whom we have 
reason to believe many of our readers entertain a warm regard, a 
regard in which we confess ourselves fully to participate, of whom 
we have lately heard but little — of course we lefer to that most 
“ meritorious individual,” that dog of dogs, dear, honest old Faust. 
Since Lewis had quilted Broadhurst, Faust’s character, like those 
of his betters (if mortals are belter than dogs) had in a degree 
altered. The blind, unhesitating obedience he had been accustomed 
to pay to his master’s slightest signal, he accorded to no other per- 
son. It AYaiter called him he would come, it is true, but he would 
do so in the calm, leisurely, dignified manner in which one gentle- 
man would comply with the request of another. Toward the gen- 
eral he conducted himself with a degree of respectful hauteur, which 
seemed lo say* ” W'e are not friends, there is no sympathy between 
us. but as long as 1 continue to reside in a family of which .you are 
the head, 1 owe it to myself to render j^ou the amount of courtesy 
due to your position.” For Mr. Spooner, the usurper, who had 
dared to succeed his beloved master, he showed a most unmitigated 
contempt, utterly ignoring all his commands, and resenting any at- 
tempt on his part to enforce his authority, by the utterance of a 
low, deep growl, accompanied by a formidable display of sharp 
white teeth. Toward Annie alone did he evince any great affection, 
which he showed chiefly by attending her in her walks, and taking 
up his position under the sofa, oi close lo the chair on which she 
was silling— demonstrations of attachment which, as we have 
already hinted, were, for some unexplained reason, a source of con- 
siderable annoyance to Walter. During the conversation between 
Laura and Annie, Faust had beeu lying unnoticed under the sofa, 
and now finding his young mistress alone, and for some cause or 
other unhappy (he knew that quite well), it occurred to him that 
the correct thing would be lo come out and comfort her, which he 
attempted to do by laying his great rough head in her lap, wagging 
his tail encouragingly, and lickiug her hand. In her loneliness of 
heart, even the poor dog’s sympathy (endeared as he was to her by 
a thousand cherished recollections) was a relief to Annie, and stoop- 
ing down she imprinted a kiss on his shaggy head, whispering as 
she did so; ” Good Faust, you have never forsaken me!” At this 
moment the door opened, and Walter entered hastily. As his eye 


384 LEWIS ARUNDEL, 

tell upon Annie and the dog, his cheeks flushed, and he exclaimed, 
hastily: 

‘ Annie, 1 wish j^ou’d let Faust a^one; how often have 1 told you 
that 1 won’t have him nuddl id withF’ 

With a start at this sudden interruption, Annie hastily raised her- 
self, and pushing the dog gently from her, said: 

“ Dear Walter, do not be angry. Faust came and licked my 
hand; you would nut have me unkind to him?” 

‘‘ Oh! it’s Faust’s fault, is it?” returned Waller, crossly. ” Paust, 
come here. Take him to our room, Mr. Spooner, and keep him 
there till 1 come; he shall not stay in the (irawing-room it he is 
naughty. Faust, do you hear me, sir?” 

‘‘"He will never tollow me. Sir Walter; it’s no use calling him,” 
remonstrated Mr. Spooner. 

” He will do as 1 tell him, and so will you, too,” returned Waller, 
imperiously, and twisting his handkerchief, he tied it loimd the 
dog’s neck, led him to the door, gave the end of the leash thus formed 
to Mr. Spooner, and then fairly lurned the pair of them out of the 
mom. Having accomplished this feat, he strolled listlessly to the 
fire place, and amused himself by pulling about the ornaments on 
the chimnej^-piece tor some minutes. At length a new idea seemed 
to strike him, and turning to his companion, he said: 

‘‘ Do you know wdn^ 1 w^as so angry with Faust just now^?” 

Becau&e 1 was pelting him, 1 suppose, as you don’t seem to like 
mo to do so,” returned Annie. 

” Ahl that was not all, though,” rejoined Walter. ‘‘ 1 w’arited 
him particularly to have been with me when 1 w'as out walking to- 
day; very particularly.” 

‘‘ Yes, and why was that?” inquired Annie, wiio always cncour 
aired him lO talk to her, in the hope of overcoming the dislike which 
he had taken to her and which, for many reasons, pained her inex- 
pressibly. Walter remained for a minute nr two silent, and then 
coming close to lier, he asked in a low whisper: ” Annie, do you 
believe in ghosts?” 

“ My dear Walter, what an odd question,” returned Annie, in 
surprise, *’ why do you ask it?” 

Waller glanced carefully round the room, to assure himself that 
they were alone, ere he replied, in the same low, awe-strickcn whis- 
per: ‘‘ Because if there are such things, 1 thiiik I’ve seen one.’' 

** Billy boy,” rejoined Annie, anxious to reassure him, tor she saw 
that he was really frightened; ‘‘you have fancied it. What w^as 
your ghost like, pray?” 

” Promise you won’t tell anybody.” 

Annie, halt amused, half puzzled by the boy’s earnestness, gave 
the requited pledge. As soon as she had done so M alter, stooping 
down so as to bring his moutli on a level with her ear, replied: 

‘‘ It was the ghost of Mr. Arundel!” 

Overcome by so unexpected a reply, Annie was a moment or so 
before she could find words to inquire: ” My dear Walter, w’hat 
could make you imagine such a thing? Perhaps you were asleep 
and dreamed it. When was it?” 

” No, 1 was not asleep, and it was not fancy,” returned Waller, 
grave y, “ 1 was out walking this morning early willi Mr. Spooner, 


LEWIS AKUXDEL. 


385 


and we lost our way, and after trying for some time to find it, Mr. 
Spooner Hired a boat, and told the boatman to set us down near — 
near — well, 1 forget, but he meant near here. Wlien we got out we 
liad to go through some narrow passages between the different 
streets, and in one of them, which was very dark because of the high 
lioiises, we met a lignre of a man, very tall and wrapped in a long 
black cloak. It drew back to let us pass, and just as 1 got close to 
it it turned its head, and 1 saw the face. It w^as slern and dark, 
and wore a black beard, but tlie beautiful eyes were the same, and 
when 1 saw them 1 knew it was Mr Arundel, or,’" he added, sink- 
ing his voice, “ his ghost.” 

As bis companion remained silent he continued: “When 1 saw 
who it was, 1 stopped and was just going to speak, but at that mo- 
ment be stared bard at me, gave a vmlent start, and before 1 could 
do anything to prevent it, vanished through a dark archway.” 

‘‘ Oh! you must liave mistaken some one for him,” returned 
Annie, struggling for composure, ” Mr. Arundel is probably in Eng- 
land and £ li09ts are out of the Question; besides, if there are such 
things, which 1 doubt, they only appear after people are dead.” 

Waller considered fora minute, and then met the difficulty by 
consolatorily suggevStmL: ” Perhaps dear Mr. Arundel is dead— per- 
haps be grew so unhappy that he could not live without ever seeing 
Pa list and me, and- ah! Annie, how could you be so cruel as to 
send liirn away?” 

‘‘Isend him away, Walter I w'hat can have put such a strange 
notion into your head?” exclaimed Annie, astonished at the accusa- 
tion. 

‘‘ \'es, you did,” returned Walter, vehemently. ‘‘ He went away 
because he loved you and you would not love him. It was very 
cruel of you, and 1 hale you for it whenever I remember bow un- 
kind you have been,” and overcome by his feelings, the pcor boy 
bur-t into tears. 

A thousand confused thoughts flashed like lightning through 
Annie’s brain. Wliat could he mean? Was she listening to the 
mere tolly of idiocy, or had he indeed any possible foundation for 
Ids assertion? Anxious to soothe him, she laid her hand caressingly 
upon Ids, while, replying rather to hiT own heart than to his last 
ob^ (‘rvation, she said: 

” ]No, my poor Walter, he whom you so much regret never loved 
me. ” 

“All! but he did, though,” ^turned Walter, positively, drying 
his tears, ‘‘ 1 kno7o it.” He spoke so decidedly that Annie, despite 
her reason, could not but feel curious to bear more, and turning 
away her Ik ad to li'.de her agitation, she asked, in a low voice: 

” How do you know?” 

” If 1 fell you, you must never tell the general or anybody,” re- 
turned Walter. “ People think I’m a fool, and 1 know 1 am not 
clever and can’t learn like oilier boys, and sometimesl feel a weight 
just here,” and he pressed Ids hand to his forehead, ‘‘ and then all 
my sense goes out — I wonder where it goes to — Annie, do you think 
it tinds wings and flies up to heaven among the wliite angels? 1 think 
so sometimes and then I long to he a bird and liy with it,” Too 
13 


386 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


much interested to allow him to tall into a new train of thought, 
Annie recalled his wandering ideas by saying: 

“ You were talking about Mr. Arundel, Walter dear.’' 

“ Oh, yea, and about you, 1 leinember,” resumed \V alter. “ I 
knew, at least i thought, he was very tond of you a long time ago, 
but 1 was not quite sure ot it till one day when i dressed Faust up 
like a gentleman, with Mr. Arunders watch, and you took it olf the 
dog’s neck, and then you threw your arms round him and kissed 
him as you did just now— that was what made me angry when 1 
remembered about the first time — well, while you w^ere* hugging 
Faust Mr. Arundel came to the door and saw you, though you (fid 
not see him, and his eyes danced and sparkled, and his mouth 
melled into such a sw-eet smile; he was so glad to «ee how fond you 
were ot Faust, and then 1 knew he loved you, for if he had not, he 
would not have cared about it, you know. Then he went away, 
and left me Faust, and 1 thought because he left Faust be was sure 
to come back, but 1 know now that he left him to comfort me, and 
went away himself all alone. Tlien that horrid Mr. Spooner came; 
he's a great friend of Lord Bellefield’s, and one day they were 
talking together, and they fancied 1 did not attend to theui, but 1 
did thougli, for I knew they vpere talking about Mr. Arundel. Well, 
Mr. Spooner asked why he went away, and Lord Bellefield replied: 

‘ Why, if the truth must be told, he hud the audacity (wnat does 
that mean?) to raise his eyes to my Cousin Annie.’ Mr. Spooner 
questioned him turf her, and he informed him that Mr. Arundel had 
gone boldly to the general, and said he loved you.” 

” Told my father so?” exclaimed Annie. 

” Acs, so he said,” resumed Walter, ” and the general told him 
jmu loved Lord Bellefield instead, and meant to be his wufe, and 
then poor Mr. Arundel said he would go away, and so he did, but of 
course if you had loved him lie would have stayed, and we should 
all have been so happy together. So you see, Annie, it was you 
that sent him away, and since I’ve known that, I’ve hated you, and 
tried to keep Faust from loving you, only he will, and I can’t hale 
you (piite always; but 1 never meant to tell you all this, and you 
must never tell Lord Bellefiehl, or he would be ready to kill me.” 

He paused, then, regarding her with a sad. regretful look, he 
said: “ But, Annie, is it really true that you don’t love dear Mr. 
Anindel?” 

Poor Annie! aflected and excited as she had been by the forego- 
ing scene, this last speech was loo much for her, and throwing her 
arms about the boy’s neck, and %idiug her burning cheek against 
his breast, she whispered: ” Dearest vY alter, do not hate me! you 
have no cause to do so 


CHAPTER LV. 

CONTAINS MUCH PLOTTING AND COUNTERPLOTTING. 

It was the evening of the Tuesday in Epsom week, the day be- 
fore the Derby. Lord Bellefield, tluuigli outwardly calm, was in- 
wardly a prey to the most painful mental excitement. His lordship 
had met with a continued run of ill-fortune latterly. Every tiling 
be had attempted bad turned out badly; if be bet on a race, tbe 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


887 


norse he backed invariably lost; if he played, cards and dice equal- 
ly declared a^ijainst him; he had lavished hundreds in presents to a 
new opera dancer, and at the moncent in which he deemed his suit 
successful, she had eloped with a younger, richer and handsomer 
man; his tradesmen began to mistrust him, and to dun him un- 
pleasantly; several of his intimates, to whom he owed money, grew 
cool and eyed him suspiciously. His extravagance had reached his 
father’s ears, and Lord Ashford had not only ventured to remon- 
strate with him, but apparently bent on adding insult to injury, had 
cited the example of his younger brother, Charles Leicester (whom 
from his heart he despised), and held him up as a pat tern for his 
imitation, wdiile Lord Bellefield was forced to bear this lecturing 
patiently; for although the estates were entailed, his father hud been 
a careful man, and wms possessed of a large personalty which he 
could leave to whom he pleased. The only piece of good luck to 
set against all this “ monstrous quantity ” of vexation was the ad- 
mirable promise diplayed by the Dodona colt. This exemplary 
quadruped, now individualized by the name of “ Oracle,” appeared 
to have been born with a metaphorical silver spoon in its delicate 
mouth, tor from the moment in which its four black legs (suggest- 
ive of its future tleetness, tor black-legs are invariably pnt 
their feet into this naughty world, everything had prospered with it. 
The breeder was astonished at it, the groom who watched over its 
infancy was delighted with it, Turnbull, the trainer, was so im- 
pressed by its merits that he never could speak of it without a vol 
ley of the strongest oaths in his vocabulary, by which expletives he 
was accustomed (transposing a certain poetical dictum) Xostrenqtfim 
his praise of anything which was so fortunate as to win his ap- 
proval, and by the united kind regards of all these worthies, this 
favorite of nature had grown in public opinion until it now held the 
proud position of first favorite for the Derby. Lord Bellelield was, 
by this lime, no new hand upon the turf; on the contrary, by dint 
of having been cheated, and associating with those who had cheated 
him, for several years, he had acquired, besides a sort of prescrip- 
tive diploma to do as he had been done, a considerable insight into 
the mysteries of the training stable, as well as the betting ring — he 
wms therefore habitually cautious; but in the present instance, all 
his acquired knowledge and natural acuteness coincided with the 
opinions of his underlings, to prove to him that in the Dodona colt 
he hud, indeed, drawn a rare prize, and that if he could but insure 
that which our sanguine country is popularly supposed to expect, 
viz., that ‘‘every man should his duty,” hfs horse, and none 
other, must be winner of the Dt imy. Accordingly, all the powxTs 
of his intellect (which, although not enlarged, was subtile and acute) 
were now directed to two points; viz., first to take all precautions 
to insure that his horse should be fairly dealt by, and secondly, to 
make such a book on the event as might retrieve his bankrupt fort- 
unes. This last feat he had succeeded in accomplishing even be- 
yond bis utmost wishes, and accustomed as be was to hazard large 
sums upon the cast of a die, be began to grow alarmed at the mag- 
nitude ot the stake foi w^hich he was about to contend. 

Having dined in town at his club, be returned to bis luxuiious 
bachelor menage in Street, and, desiring that he might not be 


388 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


disturbed, drew out his betting-book, examined it carefully, went 
through the calculations again and again, referred to the latest odds, 
and ihen closing it with a sigh, muttered: “ Yes, they are all safe 
men. men who will pay to the hour, and if Oracle runs true, this 
cursed load of debt will be wiped off and— 1 shall be rich enough to 
begin afresh, and contiact a new one, if--ay, there’s the rub— if !” 
He strode up and down the room. “ 1 am wretchedly nervous to- 
night,” he exclaimed, ringing the bell. ” Bring brandy,” he con- 
tinued, as the servant appeared; then filling a wine-glass, he drank 
it oft as if it had been water. ” Leave it,” he said; then resuming 
his walk, added: ” it must go right — there is not a horse that can 
come near him; Tartiiffe was the only one that had a chance, and 
Turnbull swears he is safe to lose; he witnessed the private trial 
himself, and the colt won by a head, carrying 5 lbs. extra weight. 
That anuisement cost me £50, to bribe Austerlitz’s trainer to allow 
the trial to take place. True, Turnbull may have lied, and yet why 
should he? He owes everything to me, though that has nothing 
to do with it; gratitude, if there be such a quality, is simply pros- 
pective — men are grateful to those only from whom they expect 
favors. Well, even thus, Turnbull is bound to me hand and toot, 
besides, I know he has backed the colt heavily himself. Barring 
accidents, then, against which no foresight, can provide, and of 
wdiich therefore it is useless to think, 1 stand safe to win, and yet it 
is a frightful sum to hazard on the uncertainties of a horse-race, if 
1 should lose 1 must either blow out my brains like poor Mellerton, 
or quit the country, marry Annie Grant, and live abroad on her 
money till my father dies, and he’s as likely to last twentv years 
longer as 1 am.. I scarcely knew wiiicli alternative is preferable. 
What an infernal tool I’ve been to bring myself into such a scrape, 
but when a man has such a run of ill-luck against him as 1 have 
been cursed with for the last yeiir, what is he to do?” He paused, 
stretched himself w^earily, and then glancing at a gilt clock on tlie 
cliimney-piece, muttered: “Tw’elve o’clock. I must be up early 
to-Tnorr>w and keep a clear head. I’ll smoke a cigar and turn in.” 
At this moment the house-bell rang sharply, and Lord Belleficld 
started like a guilty thing. With an oath at this fresh luoot of his 
nervousness, he filled and drank a second glass of brandy, then 
stood listening with a degree of eager anxiey, which, despite his 
eftorls, he could not restrain. Doors opened and shut, and ul length 
a servant appealed. 

” What is it?” exclaimed Lord Bellefield, before the man could 
speak. 

” A person wishes particularly to see your lordship,” wois the re- 

pi.y 

” Say 1 am engaged and can see no one. 1 thought 1 told you 
that 1 w^ould not be disturbed,” relumed bis master, angrily. 
*'• Stay,” he continued, as a new idea struck him, ” what kind of a 
person is it?’ 

‘‘ He desired me to inform 3"our lordship that his name was Turn- 
bull,” was the answer. 

With an oath at the man’s stupidity, Lord Bellefield desired hi^i 
to admit the visitor instantly. 


LEWIS ARUI^DEL. 389 

“ Well, Turnbull,^’ he exclaimed, eagerly, as the trainer entered; 
“ what is it, man?'’ 

Thus adjured, Turnbull, a tall, stout-built tellow, with a clever 
but disagreeable expression of countenance, glanced carefully round 
the room to assure himself that they were alone, and then approach- 
ing Lord Bellefield, began: “ Why, you see, my lord, I thought I’d 
better lose no time, tor there ain’t so many hours between now and 
to-morrow’s race, so 1 jumped on to my 'ack, cantered over to the 
rail, ’ailed a ’ansom’s cab, and ’ere 1 am.” 

“ Nothing amiss, eh? nothing wrong with the colt?” asked Lord 
Bellefield, with an affectation ot indifference, though any one who 
had watched him closely might have seen that he turned very pale. 

“ No, bless his eyes, he’s as right as a trivet, and as playful and 
impudent as — as a brick,” continued Mr. Turnbull, rather at a loss 
for a sufficiently eulogistic similp. “ It was only this morning he 
took up little Bill, the ’elper, b}^ the waistband of his indispentiona- 
bles, and shuk him like a tarrier would a rat. It would have done 
your ’art good to have seen him; he’ll come out to-morrow as fresh 
as paint, bless his bones.” 

“ Well, then, what is it, it Oracle is all right?” returned his em- 
ployer, greatly relieved. 

“Why, unfortunate??/, there’s somebody else as has got a ’orse as 
is all right too, and I’m afraid we ain't quite so sure of the race as 
we fancied we was,” was the dispiriting reply. 

“ Why, 1 thought you had satisfied yourself that there was not a 
horse that could run near hmi. You tell me he beat Tartuffe carry- 
ing five pounds extra weight.” 

“ Ay, so 1 believed, but the sharpest of us is done sometimes; it’s 
a wicked cross-bred world to live in, and a man need be wide- 
awaker than-— than one o’clock, to be down to all their moves.” So 
saying, the discomfited trainer rubbed his nose, as if to brighten his 
wits, and continueri: “The truth is this, my lord: One of my 
grooms cum to me this morning, and said if 1 would stand a 
sovereign between him and one of bis mates, he would tell me 
something as 1 ought to know. Well, seeing as this race is rather 
a peculiar one, and as any little mistake might turn out unpleas- 
ant—” 

“ What do you mean, sir?” interrupted Lord Bellefield, drawing 
himself up with a haughty gesture. 

“ Nothing, my lord, nothing,” returned Turnbull, obsequiously, 
“ only as onr colt stands first favorite, and as we’ve made our cal- 
cilations to win, I thought the Californian farthing would not be 
thrown away. According?;^, he brought up his mate, as he called 
him, which was the hidentical boy as first rode the colt, and he con- 
fessed that him and the boy that rode Tartuffe had met one day 
when they was out a exercising; and just for their own amusement, 
they give ’em a three mile gallop. They run very near together, 
but Tartuffe beat our colt by above a length; that he’d seen the trial 
afterward, and that he knowed from the difference in Tartuffe’s 
running, that he was not rode fair, or was overweighted, or some- 
thing. Well, my lord, this information bothered me, and made me 
feel suspicious that some move had been tried on which we was not 
up to, and while 1 was scheming how to cipher it out, the same boy 


390 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


cum again, and tolil me that the lad that rode Tartuffe at the 
second trial was a keeping company along with Ids sister, and that 
he thouglit she might worm something out of him it she could be got 
to try. According?^, 1 sent for the gal, and between bribing, coaxing, 
and frightening her, persuaded her to undertake the job. She had 
some trouble with the young fellow, but she is a sharp, clever gal, 
and she never left him till she dragged it out of him.” 

Drew what out of him?” interrupted Lord Bellefield, unable to 
restrain his impatience; “can’t you come to the point at once? 
You’ll distract me with your prosing.” 

“ Well, the long and the short of it is, as 1 see your lordship’s 
getting in a hurry (and, indeed, there ain’t no time to be lost), the 
long and short of it is, that they’ve been and turned the lables upon 
us;VhiIewe put five pounds extra weight on our horse, they shoved 
eight pounds on theirs.” 

“Then lariufle ran within a head of the colt, carrying three 
pounds extra,” exclaimed Lord Bellelield, “ and of course without 
that disadvantage, w'ould again have beaten him.” 

“ 1 think Oracle is a better horse now than he was at the time the 
trial cum ofl;,” was the reply; “ but the race ain’t the sate thing 1 
thought it was. It’s rather a ticklish chance to trust to, it your 
lordship’s got at all a heavy book upofi the event.” 

As he made this uncomfortable acknowledgment, the trainer leered 
inquiringly with his cunning little eyes at his employer. 

Lord Bellefield did not immediately answer; but leaning his elbow 
on the chimney-piece, remained buried in thought. His pale 
cheeks and the eager quivering ot his under lip, which from time 
to time he unconsciously bit till the marks of bis teeth remained in 
blood upon it, alone testifying the menial suffering be experienced, 
liiiin and disgrace were before him. ISor was this all. The Due 
d’Austerlitz, a young foreigner, w^ho, bitten wdtli Anglomania, bad 
purchased a racing stud and was the owner of TartufTe, happened 
to be tlie individual before alluded to as Lord Bellefield’s successtul 
rival in the venal affections ot the fascinating lie haletl 

him, accordingly, with an intensitj^ which would have secured him 
tlie approbation of the good-buter-loving Dr. Johnson. If anything, 
therefore, were wanting to render the intelligence he had just re- 
ceived doubly irritating to him, ibis fact supplied the deficiency. 
His lordship, "however, possessed one element of greatness, his spirit 
invariably rose with difficulties, and the greater the emeigency, the 
more cool and collected did he become. Having remained silent 
for some minutes, he observed, quietly. “I suppose, Turnbull, 
you, being a sbrew^d, clever fellow in your way, scarcely came here 
merely to tell me this. You iuc perfectly aw’aie that, relying upon 
yonr information and judgment, 1 have made a heavy book on this 
race, and can imagine that, however long my purse may be, I shall 
find it more agreeable to win than to lose. You have, therelore, 1 
am sure, some expedient to propose. In fact, I read in your face 
that it is so.” 

The man smiled. 

“ Your lordship 1 always knew to have a sharp eye tor a good 
horse or a pretty gal,” he said; “ hut you mtist be wide awake if 
you can read a man’s thoughts in his face. It ain’t such an easy 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


391 


matter to say what Is best to do; if your lordship’s made rather too 
heavy a book on the race, 1 should recommend a little careful Hedg- 
ing to-morrow morning.” 

Lard Bellefield shook his head. “ Too late to make anything of 
it,” he replied, ” that is, of course, 1 might save mysef tiom any 
very heavy loss, but I must have money— a— in fact, 1 stood so fair 
to win largely by this race, that hedging will be quite a dernier 
ressort. But you have a better scheme than that to propose.” 

” It your lordship is at a loss how to act, it is not likely that any 
plan of mine will do the trick,” was the reply. 

Whether or not Turnbull wished to provoke his employer, certain 
it is his speech produced that effect, for with an oath Lord Belle- 
field exclaimed: 

” What is it you are aiming at? If it be money lliat you are 
standing out for, you have onry to prevent Tartuffe'from starting, 
and name your own price.” 

” Why, you see it might be as well to let him start; men have 
been transported tor interfering v;iih a race ’orse to purwent his 
starting, but he need not win the Derby tor all that,” was the enig- 
matical reply. 

Lord Bellefield’s lip curled with a sardonic smile. His knowledge 
of human nature had not then deceived him, Turnbull had some 
scheme in petty, and was only waiting to secure the best market 
for it. 

” 1 suppose £1000 will satisfy you,” he said, and as the trainer 
bowed his gratilude, continued: ” You are certain your plan can 
not tail? What is it jmu propose?” 

‘‘ Why, you see, my lord, ’orses is like ’uman cieeturs iu many 
respecs,” reolied Turnbull; ” there's some things as agrees with their 
stummicUs, and some as disagrees with ’em; the things that agrees 
wdtli llie hanimals makes ’em run taster, the things that disagrees 
makes them run slower, or it you give it ’em too strong they comes 
to a standstill altogether. Now, if so be as Tartuffe should have a 
taste of a certain drug as 1 knows on, that ain’t very different from 
hopium, give it him afore he goes to sleep to-night, he’ll come to 
the starling-post all right, and run very respectable, but if he beats 
our ’orse, I’ll engage to-irat him saddle and all. 1 can't speak fairer 
than that, 1 expect.” 

‘‘ And who have you fixed upon to perform this piece of delecta- 
ble rascality?” inquired Lord Bellefield, unable to repress a sneer nt 
the meanness of the villainy, by which, however, he was only t(K) 
glad to profit., 

” It was not a very easy matter to pitch upon the right man,” re- 
joined the trainer; ” but luckily 1 happened to remember a party 
that seemed as if he'd been born a purpose for the job, and who has 
been so thoroughly cleaned out lately that he was not likely to be 
particular about trifles. 1 saw him before 1 left home, showed him 
which way his interest lay, put him up to my ideas on the subject, 
and I hope when 1 sees your lordship to morrow morning, 1 shall 
have some good new^s to tell you.” 

“I’ll be Willi you early, before people are about,” returned Lord 
Bellefield. “It is important tlia; 1 should know the result of this 
scheme as soon as possible; the greatest cauliou must be observed 


302 


LEWTS ARUNDEL. 


lest the matter should transpire, and if anythiro; comes out you of 
course must take it upon yourself. The man should go abroad lor 
a time. And now 1 must try and get a couple of hours sleep, or my 
head will not be tit tor to-morrow’s work. 1 breakfast at Epsom 
with a set of men; but lil be with you first You’ve acted with 
your usual zeal and cleveiness, 1 nrnbull, and lil take care that you 
shall have no reason to repent j^our honesty to your emplo3XT; only 
let us win to-morrow, and your fortune is made. Good-night.” 

As he spoke he rang t ebell, and with many servile acknowiedg- 
ments of his master’s [iromised liberality, the trainer departed. 

While this interview w^as taking place, a far different scene had 
been enacting in the premises occupied by the racing stud of the 
Due d’Austerlitz. As the clock over the stables chimed the hour 
after midnight, a light ladder was placed against the wall of one of 
the outer buildings, and a slightly-framed, agile man ran up it, and 
drawing it cautiously after him, laid it in a place of security, wdiere 
it would remain unnoticed till his return; he then crept with noife- 
less, cat-like steps over roofs and along parapets, finding among rain- 
gutters and coping-stones a dangerous and uncertain footing, until 
he reached a building nearly in the center of the yard. Here he 
paused, and drawing from his pocket a short iron instrument, shaped 
like a chisel at one end, he cautiously chipped away the mortar 
round one of the tiles which protected an angle of the roof, and, b}^ 
removing the tile, exposed the ends of a row of slaling. Quietly 
raising one of the slates, he, by means of the instrument above al- 
luded to, which is known to the initiated by the euphonious title of 
a “jimmy,” snapped the nails which retained it in its place, and 
removed it. Having acted in a similar manner by iw^o others, he 
produced a small cabinet-maker’s saw, and cutting through the 
battens, opened a space sufficiently wide to admit the passage of a 
man’s body. Replacing bis tools, he crept through the apeitun} 
thus effected, and letting himself down by bis hands into the lott 
beneath, dropped noiselessly on to some trusses of bay laid there for 
future consumption. Part of bis task was now accomplished, for 
he was in the lott over the horse-box in which Tartutte was repos- 
ing his graceful limbs before the coming struggle; but the most 
difficult and hazardous portion of bis enterprise remained ^^et to be 
accomplished. Crawling on his bands and knees, be reached one 
of the openings by which the hay was let down into the racks be- 
neath, anil cautiously peeping over, gazed into the interior of 
the stable itself, and noted the precautions taken to secure the 
safeW of the race-horse, and the difficulties which lay before him. 
The box in which the animal was placed was secured by a strong 
padlock, the key of which rested at that moment under the pillow 
of Slangsby, the Due d’Austerlitz’s trainer, while in the next box, 
half-lying, hnlf-sitting on a truss of straw, dozed “ Yorkshire Joe,” 
a broad shouldered, bow-legged lad, some eighteen j^ears of age, 
who had been a kind of equestrian valei to Taituffe, during the 
whole “ educational course ” of that promising quadruped. 

These particidars the intelligent eye of tin* tenant of the hay-loft 
took in at a glance, wdiile his quick wit decided as rapidly the exact 
degree in w’hicli they were calculated to tell for or against the object 
he sought to accomplish. The padlock was in his favor, for, as he 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


393 


did not intend to enter the horse-box by the door, it would serve to 
keep Joe out without interfering with his design; but the presence 
of the stable-boy presented an insuperable obstacle to his fuither 
proceedings. Tnis difficulty had, however, been foreseen and pro- 
vided against. Stealing on tiptoe across the loft, he selected a long, 
stout straw, and, thrusting it through the keyhole of the door by 
which the fodder was taken in, he suffered it to drop on the outside. 
Scarcely had he done so, when a low cough announced the pres- 
ence of some confederate, and, satisfied that everything was in a 
right train, he noiselessly returned to his post ot observation. In 
another moment his quick ear caught the sound i f a modest tap at 
the stable-door. Honest Joe's senses not being equally on the alert, 
the knock had to be repeated more than once ere he became awaie 
of it. As soon as he grew convinced that the sound was not the 
creation of his sleeping fancy, he rubbed his eyes, stretched him- 
self, and drowsily inquired: “ Who’s there?” 

” It is l—Mary— and 1 want particular!}" to speak to you,” replied 
a woman’s voice. 

*' Thy want must wait till morning, lass; for I’m not a-goaing to 
leave this place to- night for nothink nor nobody: so gang thee home 
agin,” w"as the uncourteous reply. 

” No, but Joe, dear Joe, you must hear me to night; it is some- 
thing very important indeed. You muHt hear me,” pleaded the 
temptress. 

” 1 wman’t, J tell thee; gang whoam!” returned Joe, gruffly. 

” Well, if rd thought you’d have been so unkind, I w^ould not 
have stayed out of my warm bed, trapesing through Hepsom streets 
at this time o’ night, which ain’t fit for a respecktible young woman 
to be out in and coming all this way to put you up to something as 
may lose your place, and worse, if you ain’t toUI of it. 1 didn’t 
expect sicii unkindness— and from you too, tliat I didn’t,” and here 
a sound akin to a sob, apparently indicating that the speaker was 
weeping, found its way to Joe’s ears, and going thence straight to 
his honest, unsuspicious heart, overcame his prudence and con- 
quered his resolution. Kising from his seat, he approached the 
door and listened. The sobs still continued. 

‘‘ Mary, lass, what ails thee?” he said. ” 1 didn’t mean to anger 
thee, wench; but thee knoas 1 dare na leave t’ horse; besides t’ 
stable-doar be locked, and maister’s got t’ key.” 

” And can’t you come to the window in the further stable where 
we’ve talked many a time before?” suggested the siren. “It’s 
something about the horse 1 want to tell you; a dodge they’re going 
to try, to prevent his winning to-morrow. You don’t ihink I’d 
have come out this time o’ night for nothing, do you, stupey?” 
This intelligence chased away Joe’s last lingering scruple, and mut- 
tering: 

“ About t’ horse— why did na thee say so afore?” he lit a hand 
lantern at the lamp which hung from the ceiling, and, assuring him- 
self by a glance that his charge was in safety, quitted the stable by 
a side-door. 

In the meantime, the occupant ot the loft had not been idle. As 
soon'as Joe became engrossed Dy the foregoing conversation, the 
sound of a fine saw at work might have been perceived by a more 


394 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


delictile organization than that of the sturdy groom, and at the 
moment in which he left the stable, two of the bars of the rack were 
silently removed, anrl through the opening thus effected, a man cau- 
tiously low^ered himself, and resting his feet tor an instant on the 
manger, dropped lightly into the box occupied by Tartulle. This 
teat w as accomplislied so quietly, that the horse, w hich happened 
n«)t to be lying down, but w^as standing, trying, tlirOugh its muzzle, 
to nibble the straw of its bed, w^as scarcely startled, merely raising 
its head, and staring at its unexpected visitant. This individual 
now produced from his mysterious pocket a handful of oats, and 
holding them out, allowed lartuhe to smell and nibble at them. 
AVhile the animal w^as thus engaged, he removed the muzzle wmin 
tor the purpose of preventing it Irom eating its litter, or otherwise 
gaining access to any food of which the trainer might disapprove. 
His next proceeding w^as to draw out that ingenious iustrument ot 
torture yclept a twitch, which for the oenefit ot tliose ot our laay 
readers wiio do not happen to be gifted with a “ stable mind,” or to 
have encouraged sporting tendencies, w^e may describe as a short, 
thicR stick, or handle, about two feet long, tcrminaled by a loop of 
stout w’hipcord, or leather, into which the upper-lip, or occasionally, 
the ear of the horse is inserted; then, by twisting the stick, the loop 
can be tightened so as to produce any amount of agony the inflicter 
may desire, the philosophy ot the matter being, that the animal, 
finding his struggles exactly double his pain, soon has sense enough 
to choose the lesser of two evils, and therefore stands si ill while 
nasty things are being forced down his throat, and other liberties 
taken with him, which, but for the application ot the twitch, he 
w^oi.ld actively resent. In the present instance, wdiile the unfortu- 
nate Tartuffe was still chewing the oats by which his confidence had 
been betrayed, the twitch was fixed on his nose, tightened, and the 
nauseating ball which w’ as lo impair his strength and fleetuess, and 
secure the victory lo the Dodona colt, and fortune to Lord Belle- 
field. w’as already in his mouth, ere he was aware that any incivility 
was intended him. To give a horse a ball, however, it is not onl}^ 
necessary to put it into its mouth, but to thrust it back as far as, if 
possible, me entrance of the gullet, and this operation, even when 
performed in the most skillful manner, is by no means easy to the 
operator, or agreeable to the patient. In this last particular, the 
victimized Tartuffe appeared lo be entirely of our opinion; the 
blood of nis noble ancestors stirred within him, and tossing up nis 
head indignantly, he became practically aware of the full virtues of 
the twitch. The pain, however, only served to increase his rage, 
an<i he attempted to rear; hut his struggles were vain, his tormentor 
still clung to him, the ball was thrust further back in his mouth, 
and in another moment the desired object would have been attained, 
w hen suddenly the loop ot the twitch, unable lo bear the strain 
upon it, snapped. The first use the race-Jioise made of his freedom 
was to shake his head violently, and at the same lime opening his 
mouth, the stupet3dng ball fell from it. 

We must now return to our friend, Yorkshire Joe, who, suspect- 
ing no evil, was engaged in an interesting colloquy with liie perfidi- 
ous Mary, this seductive .young lady having contrived, with a degree 
of ingenuity worthy a better cause, to prolong the interview by the 


LEWIS ARUKLEL. 


395 


following expedients: First she assailed her admirer with coquettish 
reproaches for his unkindness and want of gallantry in refusing to 
speak to her; then she entered into a long account of how, and 
when, and where she had discovered the pretended design against 
Tartuffe, which she affirmed was to be put into execution two hours 
troni (hat time. 

“Eh! What! tie my hands behind me, shove a gag into my 
mouth, and then and there lame t’ horse atore my very eyes — dost 
thee say, lass? I’d only like to see the man, or men, either, that could 
do it!” exclaimed Joe, doubling his fist indignantly : “and thee 
heard this in the tap-room of the Chequers, dost thee say— What 
was that noise?” 

“ Nothing. 1 dropped one of my paltens, that was all,” rctnrned 
the girl, stooping, as if to pick it up, though she was not sorry for 
an excuse to hide her agitation, tor her quick ear had delected the 
sound ot a horse’s hoots trampling on the sti'aw, and she knew that 
her accomplice was -at work. “ Whj", you are quite starlish to- 
night, Joe,” she resumed, looking up at him with a forced smile; 
“ did you think it was a ghost? But it’s no wonder you’re nervous: 
it’s hard, lines for you, poor fellow, sitting up o’ nights like this — ” 

“ There it is agenl” interrupted Joe; “by it’s in t’ horse's 

box,” he continued, listening attentively. “ Them thieves 

can’t be come a’rcady, sure!” And heedless of Mary’s assurances 
that it was nothing, and her entreaties to remain onl}^ one moment 
longer, the groom, now thoroughly excited, leaped down from the 
window, and rushed back into the stable. 

AVith the speed of thought, the girl sprung to the door, at which 
she had previously tapped, and stooping her head to the key-hole, 
listened eagerly. The first thing that met her ear was a volley of 
abuse from Joe accompanied by heavy blows struck against wood 
or iron; then a noise, as ot a door being burst open; next, broken 
curses, dull, muffled strokes, ejaculations of rage or pain, the sound 
of trampling feet, a crushing, heavy fall, and then total silence. 

What had happened? She placed her eye to the key-hole, but 
could see nothing. She listened, but the throbbing of her own heart 
was the only thing she could hear; tor the first time, the fearful 
idea occurred to her, that by her treacherous dealing she might have 
occasioned her lover’s death, and regardless of consequences, she 
was about to start up and summon assistance, when a man’s hand 
Tvas laid on her shoulder, and a giuff voice exclaimed: 

“ So this is the way my grooms are tampered with. I was sure 1 
heard talking going on. * Hold up your head, you jade, and let us 
see what you’re like; nay, it’s no use to struggle, I’ve got you fast 
enough, and see who it is 1 will.” 

tto saying, Mr. Slangsby, the trainer, drew the girl toward him, 
and forcibly raising her head, threw the light of a bull’s-eye lantern 
full on her features. “ Ha! little Mary Williams,” he exclaimed, 
“ and wliat brings you here at this time of night, you artful hussy?” 

“Oh! Mr. Slangsby, piay open the door, sir. I — I’m afraid 
they’ve been and murdered poor Joe,*’ was the reply, and overcome 
by fear and remorse, the girl burst into tears, real ones, this time. 

“ They, and wdio are they, pray? Tliere’s some rascality going 
on here, 1 expect; it’s lucky 1 got up.” As he spoke, Slangsby 


396 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 

drew a key from bis pocket, opened the door, and still retainins: his 
grasp on the girl’s entered. The first object which met their 

sight was .Joe, by no means murdered, althoiigh he bore evidences of 
a severe struggle, in a black eye and bleeding knuckles. 

“ T* lioise is all right, maister, but 1 wor only jest in time, 
though,” was his opening speech. 

‘‘ In time tor w’hat?” inquired Slangsby, eagerly. 

” In time to stop yon villain horn pizonin’ the blessed hanimal,” 
returned Joe, pointing to something which at first appeared to be a 
large bundle, but which proved on examination to be a human being 
most ingeniously tied hand and foot with hay-bands. 

‘‘ Who the deuce are you, fellow?” asked the trainer, addressing 
the individual thus uncomfortably situated. 

” It ain’t no use talking to he, tor he can’t answer with a wisp o’ 
straw slutted between his jaws.” observed Joe, sententiously. 

“ Take it out, then, and untie his legs, bo that he can stand up 
and answer my questions.” 

” Better shut the dour fust then, maister, tor he’s a proper slip- 
pery cust(»mer, 1 can tell you,” returned the groom; ” he i)romise(l 
to gag me, and tie my hands behoind mo, 1 do hear said, but he’s 
found two can play at that trick. Get up, ye warmint,” he con- 
tinued, applying by no means a gentle kick to the libs of his pros- 
trate captive, ” and show your ugly mug.” 

The person, thus uncomplimentarily apostrophized, rose slowly, 
and stood sullenly awaiting the trainer’s scrutiny. The latter 
holding the lantern, so that its light fell upon the stranger’s feat- 
ures, recognized him immediately. 

“Mr. Beverly,” he said, in a tone more of .contemptous pity 
than of anger, ” is it you, sir? I knew tinxes had been getting very 
bad with you, but did not think you had come to this.” 

The man’s lips quivered. The reproach touched him more than 
the most virulent abuse could have done. His had been, we fear, 
no very unusual fate, at all events, he had only fallen one step 
loW'Cr than many who had tollow’ed the same career as he had 
done. Well born, rich, and with above average abilities, a taste 
for gambling and low coinpani^ had caused him to sink lower and 
lower in the^ scale of society, till the depth of misery and degrada- 
tion to which he had been reduced, and the extent of the bribe 
offered by Turnbull, had overcome his last feeling of honor or 
honesty, and he had consented to become the agent of another’s 
villainy. Slangsby eyed him sternly tor a moment and then said: 

“ You know what you have laid j^ourself open to, 1 suppose?” 
The Ollier nodded in sign of assent. 

“ 1 don’t wish to be hard upon you, sir,” the trainer continued, 
“so if you will speak out, and tell me all, we may, perhaps, come 
to some better understanding. 'What say you?” 

The other reflected a moment, and then replied iu a low voice, 
“ 1 will do as you wish; but not here.” 

“ Joe, you have distinguished yourself,” observed his master, 
putting his hand into his pocket, “ here is a ten-pound note for 3 "ou. 
Do not mention this night’s w^ork to anybody, and 1 will take care 
your wages are raised. Now, sir,” he continued, to Joe’s late ad- 


LTilWrS ARUKDEL. 397 

versa^ 3 ^ “ 1 am ready to talk to you— by the way, about the girl, 
she was your accomplice, of couise?” 

The stranger nodded. 

Your sweetheart lias deceived you,* Joe,” added Slangsby. 
‘‘ Give her a good lecturing, and then lock her up tor the night in 
the saddle-room; she must not be at liberty lill the race is over upon 
any account.” 

Honest Joe scratched his head in deep perplexity. Then a light 
dawned upon him, and he saw how Mary had beguiled him. Seizing 
her roughly by the wrist, he dragged lier off, exclaiming; ” Come 
along, thee cheating jade; couldst tliee foind nothing better to do 
than to go and deceive a poor tad that loved thee, and tried to get 
him into trouble? If thee was but a man, I’d wollup thee till thou 
couldst not stand, and as it be, a little starving will do thee good, 
so cum along.” 

At the same moment, Slangsby and his companion quitted the 
stable, and adjourning to the trainers’ private apartments, held 
there a long and solemn conference. The result may be gathered 
from the following speeches: 

” And you feel sure that Lord Bell(3field is aware of the whole 
thing?” questioned Slangsby. 

“I’ve not a doubt of it,” was the reply. “Turnbull was too 
ready with the blunt to be acting on his own account, he has not 
got the money to do it. 1 am to have £2C0 clear for this job, and 
my expenses paid to any part of the continent 1 may select.” 

“ And we may trust you?” 

“ Why, of course you may, man; by doing as you propose, 1 es- 
cape transportation, receive £200 to start afresh with, and get sent 
over to Paris out of harm’s way tree of expense.” _ 

“And your conscience?” inquired Slangsby, with a sarcastic 
smile. 

“ Curse conscience,” was the angry reply; “ 1 began life with as 
much honorable feeling as any man, but the villainy of the world has 
crushed it out of me. Life is a struggle, and each one must take 
care of himself. While I had money 1 spent it liberally, and met 
rny engagements honestly. Now 1 have none, I get it as 1 can, i 
undertook to drug your horse, because 1 was deeply in debt, all but 
starving, and Bellefleld’s bribe offered me a cliance. 1 failed 
through an accident, and fell into your power; your proposal re- 
gains me the position, and 1 embrace it now as 1 did before. True, 
i deceive him; fancying your horse is poisoned, he will double his 
bets,’ which are very heavy alieati 3 % and be ruined, as better men 
have been before him, but this only serves hiir right for his rascal- 
ity, and puts £200 into my pocket. 1 have to tliank you tor your 
civility, Mr. Slangsby, and to wish yon good-morning.” He turned 
logo, then, pausing, said: 

“ Y'ou have used me well in this affair, and to show you 1 am 
not all bad, 1 will give j^ou a hint. Do not rely too much on the 
result of that trial.* Bellefield’s colt was only recovering from the 
strangle, s then, and has Hnce impioved in speed and bottom, still 
Tartuffe can beat him if he is made the most of; everything there- 
fore, depends upon your jockey; if he is careless oi overconfidenl, 
Oracle may have it YQi—'verbum sat so saying, he placed his hat 


308 LEWIS AllUNDEL. 

on oiKi side of his head, cooily ran his fingers through his hair, and 
departed. 


CHAPTER LVL 

DESCRIBES THAT INDESCRIBABLE SCENE, THE “DERBY DAY.” 

“ Fair laughed the morn, and suit the zephyr played,” as Lord 
Bellefield, having held an interview with his trainer, which had 
served in great measure to set his mind at ease, cantered hack to 
the inn at Epsom, shaved the small portion of his chin which he 
Saw fit to denude of hair, made an elaborate toilet in the best style 
of sporting dandyism, and then lounged down to breakfast, of 
which meal he had invited some dozen of his intimates to partake. 
Among the last comers was a tall, dark-whiskered man, who might 
be two or three years Lord Bellefield’s senior. Pointing to a seat 
on his right hand, his entertainer began: 

” Well, Philips, how is it with you this morning? You’ve been 
wandering about as usual, picking up the latest news, 1 suppose? 
What say the prophets?” 

” There is nothing original hazarded, my lord,” was the reply. 
” Oracle is as much in favor as ever. Phosphorus is looking up 
slightly, and the Taituffe party are backing their horse to a high 
fitiure. They seem to be in earnest and mean to win if they can.” 

‘‘Ay, it they can,” returned Lord Bellefield, smiling ironically. 
” I confess, for my own part, i do not see that animal’s good 
points.” 

‘‘ He has wonderful power in the loins, and his deep girth gives 
plenty of room for the lungs to play; no fear of ‘ bellows to mend ' 
in that quarter,” was the reply. 

” Very excellent points in a hunter or steeplechase horse, but mis- 
])laced :u a racer, and by no means calculated to make up tor a 
want of fleetness. I'artuffe, in my opinion, has not the true race* 
harse stride, as Austeriitz will find to bis cost, it he really is laying 
money on him ” 

” He may not cover so much ground in his stride as Oracle, but 
bo is unusually quick in his gallop, and takes two strides wiiile an- 
other horse is taking one. Still, black and yellow (Lord Bellefield’s 
colors) will give him the go-by, and that is all we have to look to,” 
was the reply. 

In cou verse such as this, diversified by the interchange ot bets of 
more or less magnitude, the breakfast (it a meal consisting of every 
delicacy that could please the palate, or pamper the appetite, in- 
cluding meats, fish, etc., can be leiriiimatel}^ so called), passed off. 
When liquors had been handed round, Lord Bellefield’s drag w^as 
announced, and the company dispersed, first to admire and criticise 
the turn out, and then to dispos) of themselves on and about it. 
Tlic equipage was in perfect taste, and although not so showy as 
many otliers, on which less care had been bestowed or money ex- 
pended, yet the drag, with its panels ot the darkest possible cin- 
namon brown, picked out with a lighter sliade of the same color; 
the four blood bays, faultless in symmetry, the two outriders on 
horses so exactly matching those in harness, that any one unaccus- 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 399 

tomed to such matters misrht have been puzzled to conjecture Low 
the ^^roorris could disiingiiish one from another, the harness per- 
fectly tree from ornamentation of any kind, save black ami yellow 
rosettes in the li^rBes’ heaas, the two grooms in dark, well-fitting 
pepper-and-salt liveries, and iireproaclmble top-boots and leathers; 
the coronet on the doors, the cockades in the hats — every trifle, 
down to the gold-mounted whip-handle, excellent of its kind, and 
in harmonious keeping with the whole, piesented to the eye of a 
connoisseur a tout ensemble calculated to excite his highest admira- 
tion. 

Seating himself firmly on the box, and controlling his fiery horses 
with an eas}' confidence wrhich proved him a skillful whip. Lord 
Bellefield drove to the Downs, apparently impassable obslackis seem- 
ing to melt before him as it by magic, (one of the surest tests ot a 
good coachman) and arrived on the course exaclly at the “ correct ” 
moment. As he drew up lo take his place by the ropes, a showy 
britzska, drawn by four splendid grays, the postilions’ bright green 
jackets and velvet caps blazing with gold, dashed in before him. 
The carriage contained two persons— -a singularly handsome young 
man, with a foreign cast ot features, and a girl, with black, flashing 
eyes and a brilliant complexion, dressed not only in, but beyond the 
height of the fashion. These were the Due d’Austerlitz and Made- 
moiselle Angelique, the fascinating danseuse. 

As Lord Bellefield, with curling lip, passed them to take up his 
station further on, the frenchman, catching his eye, nodded care- 
lessly, and turning to his companion, said a few words in a low 
tone, and they both laughed. Had Lnd Bellefield been living at a 
period when the state of society allowed the hand to act out the 
feelings of the heart, he would at that moment have sprung upon 
the Due d’Austerlitz, and seizing him by the throat, have held on 
remorselessly till life became extinct. As it was, he merely re- 
turned the nod by a bow, smiled and kissed the tips of his gloves to 
Angelique, and drove on, so that, after all civilization has its ad- 
vantages. Having chosen his station, the bays were unharnessed 
and led away, and a mounted groom approached, leading his mas- 
ter’s hack. 

“I am going down to the ring and then to the warren, to see 
them saddle,” began Lord Bellefield; ‘‘ so 1 must leave you lo take 
care of yourselves; but anyone disposed for luncheon will find 
sometliing to that effect going on here after the race. If 1 am not 
back, Robson will take good'^care of you,” so saying, he gave an 
order to one of the servants, who remained with the drag, then, 
mounting Ins horse, cantered away. 

” He carries it off boldly enough, but they say if he loses the race 
he is a ruined man,” observed one of Wiq friends he had left be- 
hind. 

‘‘ Oh, Lord Ashford will clear him,” remarketl another. ” His 
grandfather was one of the leading counsel of the day, and the old 
boy feathered his nest well before he gave up the wig and gown. 
He was one of the old school of law'yers, and worked in the days 
when a barrister’s professional income was a great fact, whereas 
now it is a great fiction.” 

” Come, Briefless, no grumbling, back Oracle for a cool £500, and 


400 


LEWIS ARUISTDEL. 


then you may cut chambers till the season’s over. But you are 
wroui^ about Belletield. Lord Ashford has paid his debts tnree 
times, and has taken au oath on the family Bible never to do so 
again; but 1 don’t believe Bellefleld's anything like hard up. Yon 
know he won £30,000 of poor Mellerton before lie blew his brains 
out. Here’s Philips can tell us all about it, eh, what do you say, 
man?” 

” Nothing,” was the cautious reply, ‘‘and 1 would not recom- 
mend you to let Belletield find out exactly all you've been ineniion- 
ing, my dear Chatterby. I’ve knov\’a him shoot a man for less,” 
and so saying, Mr. Philips joined in the laugh he had rai ed against 
the voluble Chatterby, and then swinging himself down from the 
box, left them in order to take his place in the betting-ring. 

VVe must now change the ” venue ” to the warren, a small but pict- 
uresque spot of ground, encircled with a wall, within which inclos- 
ure the horses for the Derby and Oaks are saddled and mounted. 
Here jockeys and gentlemen, lords, blacklegs, trainers and pick- 
pockets, mix and jostle with one another indiscriminately. Assur- 
edly, Epsom on the Derby day, in exclusive, aristocratic England, is 
the onl}^ true Utopia wherein those chimeras of French folly. Lib- 
erty, Fraternity, and Equality, exist and prosper. Let the reader 
imagine from twenty to five-and-twenty blood horses, each led by 
its attendant groG)ri, and followed by an anxious trainer, while the 
jockey who is to ride it, and on whose skill and courage thousands 
are depending, carefully inspects the buckling of giiths, and regu- 
lates the length of stirrup-leathers, and as far as human foresight 
will permit, provides against any accident which may embarrass 
him in the coming struggle. Then the horse clothing is removed, 
and the shining coat and carefully plaited mane of the race-horse 
are revealed to the eyes of the admiring spectators; an attendant 
satellite at the same moment assists tne jockey to divest himself of 
his great-coat, and he emerges from his chr\salis state in all the but- 
ter tly splendor of racing dandyism. Then the trainer, or the satel- 
lite before alluded to, “gives him a leg up,” and wiih this slight 
assistance he vaults lightly into the saddle, and becomes as it were 
incorporated with the animal he bestrides. Quietly gathering up 
the reins he presses his cap firmly on his head, slants the point of 
h s whip to\\ard the right flank, exchanges a few last words with 
the trainer, and then walks his horse up and down till his competi- 
tors are all equallv prepared. On this occasion the cynosure of 
ever}^ eye was the first favorite, Oracle, and when his clothing was 
removed, and one of the cleverest jockeys of the day seated grace- 
fully on his back, he certainly did look, to quote the enthusiastic 
language of his trainer, “a reg’lur pictur’,” the perfection of a 
race-horse. TurnbuU’s last words to the jockey were: 

“ Save him as much as you safely can till the distance, and if the 
pace has been anyuhing like reasonable, it will be your own fault if 
the race is not your own.” 

A slight contraction of the eyelid proved that the advice was under- 
stood and appreciated, and man and horse passed on. 

“ How is it that Tartuffe does not show?” inquired Lord Belle- 
field of Turnbull, in a whisper; “the dose can’t have been given 
too strong, eh?” 


LEWIS ARUi^I)EL. 


401 


‘‘No fear of that, my lord,” was the reply; ” but they’ve proba- 
bly discovered ere this, that there is a screw loose somewhere, and 
they will keep him out of sight as long as they can, lest other peo- 
ple 8 h(»uld become as wise as they are themselves.” 

As he spoke the object of his remarks appeared. His rider was 
already mounted, and the horse-clothing removed. Tartuffe was a 
complete contrast to his rival in appearance. The Dodona Celt was 
a bright bay with black mane, tail, and legs; his head was small, 
almost to a fault, and shaped like that ot a deer, his neck longer 
and more arched than is generally the case in thorough-bred horses, 
while his graceful, slender limbs seemed to embody tlie very idea of 
swiftness. Tartufie was altogether a smaller and more compact 
animal, his color a rich, dark chestnut, hh head larger in propor- 
tion, and so placed on as to give him the appearance of being slightly 
ewe necked, his fore legs were shorter, and the arm more luuscular 
than those of his graceful rival; but the sloping shoulder, the depth 
of the girth, the breadth and unusual muscular development of the 
loins and haunches, together with a quick, springy step, and a gen- 
eral compactness of form, afforded to the practiced eye evidence of 
his possessing very uncommon powers both of speed and endurance. 
“ lie looks fresh and lively enough,” remarked Lord Belletield, after 
observing the horse narrowly. “ VYhat do you think about it?” 

“It’s all right, my lord,” was Turnbull’s confident answer; 
‘‘ things speak for themselves; the ’orse ain’t allowed to show till 
the last minute, and iheii he comes out with his jockey ready 
mounted. Now the logic of that dodge lies in a nutshell; finding 
the hanimal sleepy and out of sorts, they keeps him snug till the 
last minute, and then shows him with the jockey on him, when a 
touch with the spur, and a pull or two at his mouth with a sharp 
bit, makes him look alive again.’' Approaching his lips almost to 
his employer’s ear, he continued: ‘‘ Do you see that patch of black 
grease on his nose? That’s where the twitch has cut him. Beverly 
was obliged to twitch him to give him tbe ball, so, now, 5 ’oui lord- 
ship may bet away without any fear of Tartuffe,” and exchanging 
a significant glance, this well-matched pair parted. 

‘‘ Ah! Bellefield, mon clier! how lovely your colt looks this morn- 
ing; 1 suppose he is to win; for m 3 ^selt 1 am preparing to be mar- 
tyrized with a resignation the most touching,” and as- he spoke 
Armand Due d’Austeiiitz stroked his silky mustaches, and admired 
his glossy boot, wdth an air of the most innocently graceful self- 
satisfaction possible. 

“ You don’t really believe that which you say, Mansieur le Due,” 
replied Lord Belledeld, ‘‘1 never saw a horse in better condition 
than Tartuffe.” 

‘‘Ah! e'e^t 'unbon fetit cfwml, and I have bah, ah!— bet!— 1 can 
not tell jmu wiiat sums of money upon him, more than half my 
estat*’*’ ' ' Lnuguedoc; positively, 1 shall have to go through what 
- mch'of your Queeu, it 1 lose.” 

... e it is useless for me to inquire wiiether you are dis- 
poseu to back Tartufie against my bay colt,” insinuated Lord Belle- 
field. 

‘‘ No, not if you have a fancy that way, mon clier ami” replied 


402 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


Amaucl, to show his white teeth, “ what shall we say? An 

even bet of £8,000 shall it be, or £5,000?” 

“ Five is the more comfortable sum of the two,” returned Lord 
Bellefiehi, quickly. ‘‘ 1 always like to bet hves or tens; it simpli- 
fies one’s book amazingly, and 1 never had a taste for intricate 
arithmetic.” 

” Comme il wus plaira—s^iy ten, if you like it better,” and as he 
spoke, Armancl drew out a miniature betting-book, and a gold pen- 
(;il-case, blazing with jew^els. Lord Bellefieid paused for a moment. 
Certain as he believed himself to beot the race it was a great tempta- 
tion. But, on the other hand, if he appeared too eager, might not 
suspicion attach to him in the event of any clew being gained to the 
poisoning affair? This idea was so alarming to him that prudence 
overcame avarice. 

” 1 have, untortunately, no estates in Laneuedoc,” he said, laugh- 
ingly, ” and thousands are not so entirely a matter of indifference to 
me as to your grace; so we will book the bet at five.” 

The wager was accordingly so enteied, and with friendly smiles 
and courteous words upon their lips, these two men parted, one hat- 
ing the successful rival, the other despising the detected swindler. 
Alas! lor tlie shams and deceptions of society! Paste-board and 
tinsel are more real than its hollow-hearted seemings. 

”!Now', you see your game,” were Slangsby’s last words to the 
jockey who w^as to ride Tartufie. ‘‘ Aiake running early in the race, 
so as to reuder the pace as severe as possible throughout, your horse 
wdll live to the end, and theirs won’t; hut it he is not well blown 
before he gets to the distance it will be a veiy close thing, and the 
length of his stride may beat you.” 

*T'm awake,” was the concise reply; but Slangsby felt quite sat- 
isfied tlierewiih. 

Pacing may be very cruel, and it may lead to gambling, and vari- 
ous other immoralities, major and minor, and, being thus proved 
coutrary to the precepts of Christianity, good people may be quite 
right in using their best effoits to discourage it. Nevertheless, il is 
a manly and exciting sport, and although the evils to which we 
nave alluded may (and, w%‘ tear, do) attend it, we can imt see that tlie 
amusement in itself necessitates them; on the contrary, we conceive 
that they are added to it by the proneness to evil inherent in human 
nature, rather than as the natural consequence of the sport itself. 
However this may be, a fi.ner sight than the start for the Derby we 
can not easily imagiue. Let the reader picture to himself some 
twenty three-year-old colts, their proud, expanded nostrils snuffing 
the wind, and their glossy coats glistening in the sunshine, ridfien 
by the crack jockeys of England, and, therefore, of the world, 
drawn up in a line, preparatory to starting. Let him reflect, in 
order to fully realize the earnest nature of the scene, that on the tact 
of which may prove the better horse, depend many thousands— per- 
haps, in the aggregate, more than a million of pounds steF' hnt 
ihe ruin of hundreds may be involved in the event of 
on the chances of that whirlwind course have been .m* 
anxious thought, the careful calculations of days and weeks and 
months; that the weighing and reducing these calculations to a 
theoretic system, by which some certainty may be attained, is the 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


403 


business of many men’s lives, and he will then have some faint 
idea of the deep, the overpowering interest that is excited by wit- 
nessing the start for the Derby. 

On the occasion which we are describing two false starts oc- 
curred. Twice, as the word, “Go!” was pronounced by the stentorian 
lungs of the starter, did one queer-tempered animal choose pertina- 
ciously to turn its tail where its Head should have been, and twice 
did the same “ voice of power ” vociferate the command: “ Come 
back!” and deep, if not loud, were the anathemas breathed by those 
jockeys who, having maneuvered themselves into a good position, 
had contrived tD “ get away ” well. However, “ ’tis an ill wind 
which blows good to nobody,” and these delays, annoying as they 
were to 'most of the parties concerned, were as much in favor of 
Oracle as they were prejudicial to the interests of those who had 
backed Tartufle. 

Oracle, among other gifts of fortune, chanced to be blessed with a 
most amiable and placid temper, while Tartufle, not possessing so 
philosophical a turn of mind, was apt to get excited in a crowd, and 
the first false start comphdely unsettling him, he availed himself of 
the second to bolt half-way to Tattenham corner before his rider 
could pull him in, and even when that was accomplished, he showed 
a decided preference for using his hind legs only in progression, on 
his return to the starting-post by his riotous and unmanageable con- 
duct taking a great deal more out of himself than was by any means 
prudent. 

Once more, however, they are all in their places, the word is again 
given, and they are ofl, Tartufie springing away with a bound like 
that of a lion, and halt dislocating his rider’s arms by a furious effort 
to “ get his liead.” As it so happened, that there were two or three 
other “ queer ” tempered horses, who required careful handling, be- 
sides that of the Due d’Austerlitz, the pace at first was by no means 
so “ good as Slangsby bad wished it to be; nor could the jockey 
riding Tartufle venture to improve it, for two reasons; in the first 
place, his horse was so excited that it required a!l his skill to pre- 
vent his running away with him; in the second, his former attempt 
to bolt had sufficed to puflf him, and he required “ saving,’' to enable 
him to regain liis wind. In the meantime, Oracle was going sweetly 
and easily, keeping up with his horses in what appeared scarcely 
beyonfi a canter. When past the “ corner,” however, Tartuffe had 
decidedly improved, and his rider, remembering his instructions, 
began to make play. As the pace increased the “ first flight ” be- 
came considerably more select, the “ tender-hearted ” ones gradu- 
ally dropping in the rear. 

Up to this point Uhosphorus had been leading, followed by Ad- 
vance, Whisker, The Lynx, Gossip and Challenger; but down the 
next slope Tartuffe came up, passe:l the other horses, and after run- 
ning neck to neck with Pliosphonis tor about a quarter of a mile, 
took the lead and kept it about half a length, Oracle lying well up 
on the near tide. This order they preserved till near the distance, 
when Lynx and Challenger put on the steam to dispute the leader- 
ship with Tartuffe, who appeared by no means disposed to relin- 
quish the post of honor, and the pace grew decidedly severe, in 


404 LEWIS ARUXDEL. 

spite of wbicl), Oracle continnec' insensibly to creep up to the 
otlurs. 

At the distance Lj^nx found it *‘no go,” and fell back beaten. 
Gossip taking his place, closely waited on by Phosphorus and 
Oracle. A few strides more, in which Oracle improved his position, 
and then the final struggle begins, whips and spurs go to work in 
earnest, the pace is actually terrific. Gossip shuts up. Phosphorus 
retires trorn business, Oracle and Tarluffe run neck and neck, dust 
flies, handkerchiefs wave, the spectators shout, when, just at the 
critical moment, the Frenchman’s horse shoots forward, as if pro- 
pelled by some invisible power, the favorite is beaten by rather 
more than a head, and Tartuflie is winner of the Derby. 


CHAPTER LVll. 

CONTAINS SOME “ NOVEL ” KEMAKKS UPON THE ROMANTIC CERE- 
MONY OF MATRIMONY. 

” Frere, ohl fellow, have you prepared yoiir wedding garments?” 
inquired Bracy, meeting his friend accidentally, one fine da}^ about 
a week after the occurrence of the events described in the last 
chapter. 

“ Ay, 1 hear that your machinations have succeeded,” returned 
Frere, gruffly, ” and that De Grandeville is about to marry Jaidy 
Lombard. I’ll tell you what it is, Bracy, it strikes me that in assist- 
ing people to make fools of themselves and each other, yon are just 
wasting your lime, and perverting your talents; depend upon it, 
you may very safely leave folks to perform that operation on their 
own account, they are not likely to class that among their sins of 
omission.” 

‘‘ Make fools of themselves 1” repeated Bracy. ‘‘ My dear Frere, 
it’s nothing of the sort, that was an ‘ opus operatum,' a de(‘d done 
for oiir friends by beneficent ^Nature, long before 1 had tlie pleasure 
of their acquaintance. Moreover, in the present case, 1 am seeking 
to diminish rather than to increase the standing amount ot folly. 
Man and wMfe are one, you know, ergo, by uniting Lady Lombard 
and the mighty De Grandeville, the ranks ot the feeble-minded are 
one fool minus.” 

‘‘ Well, that certainly is an ingenious way of putting it,” rejoined 
Frere, laughing in spile of himself, ” and pray how have you con- 
trived to bring about this delectable affair, for 1 conclude the match 
is your handy work?” 

“ Oh! the thing was easy to accomplish,” replied Bracy. “ 1 in- 
venled pretty speeches, which 1 declared to each that the other had 
made about them; 1 exaggerated De Granclevillc’s position to Lady 
Lombard, and Lady Lombard’s wealth to De Gi’andcville; in short, 
1 lied perseveringly and judiciously, until 1 fancied 1 bad got the 
affair thoroughly en train. But 1 soon found out there was a hitch 
somewhere; it was clearly not on the lady’s side, for she was so 
far gone as to believe in De Grandeville to the extent of actually 
estimating him at his own valuation, which I take to be the 7ie plus 
ultra of credulity, so 1 set steadily to work to investigate himy and 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


405 


if possible find out what was the matler. 1 tried various schemes, 
but none of them would act, his reserve was impenetrable; at last, 
in despair, 1 gave him a champagne dinner at the Polysnobion, tak- 
ing care to ply him well with wine, and to walk home with him 
afterward, lliat did the business. He must certainly have been 
especially drunk, lor, betore we reached his lodgings, lie confessed 
t<^ me that his grandfather had been a tallow-chandler, and that the 
bar to his union with Lady Lombard was his inability lo discover 
that she possessed any pedigree.” 

” Well, for that matter,” interrupted Frere, ” having admitted 
the tallow-chandler, 1 don’t see that he need have been so very par- 
ticular as to the aristocratic tendencies of Lady I^om bard’s ances- 
try.” 

” De Grandeville did not think so,” resumed Bracy; ” he argued 
that no amount ol chandlery could infuse vulgarity into the blood 
of one of his illustrious house; external circumstances, he declared, 
were powerless to affect the innate nobility of a De Grandeville; 
whole years of melting days would fail to drop a spot upon that 
illustrious name; but for a man, the founder of whose family came 
over with the Norman William, to marry a woman without a^pedi- 
gree, one who probably never had so much as a grandfather be- 
longing to her, was impossible; he had a warm regard for Lady 
Lombard, he considered that his name and influence, supported b}^ 
her wealth, would place him in one of the proudest positions to 
which a mortal could aspire; but even tor this he could not sacrifice 
his leading principle, he could not ally himself to any one without a 
pedigree. 

” Seeing that he was in earnest, 1 torebore to laugh at him, and 
merely throwing out hints that 1 had reason to believe he w’as in 
error, and that although Lady Lombard’s father (an amiable soap- 
boiler, whose virtues flourished for sixty years in the neighborhood 
ot Shoreditch) had been engaged in commerce (he called the tallow- 
chandler a Russian merchaui) as well as his grandfather, still the 
arguments which applied to the one case, would hold good in the 
other, and at all events I begged him to take no rash or precipitate 
step in the matter till I had applied to a friend of mine who w\as a 
great genealogist (of course invented for the occasion), and used 
my best endeavors to clear up the difficulty, for which disinterested 
offer, he, being still more or less inebriated, blessed me fervently, 
and so, having seen him safely home, we parted. The next morn- 
ing 1 visited Lady Lombard, led her on sweetly and easily to talk 
of her family, gained some information, and learned where to obtain 
more, and in less than two days had the satisfaction of proving her 
fiftieth cousin sixteen times removed to Edward the Third. De 
Grandeville was introduced to my friend in the Herald’s Office — ” 

” Whom you declared five minutes ago to be invented for the 
occasion,” interrupted Frere. 

‘‘ For which reason be was the more easily personated by Tom 
Edgebill of the Fusileers,” resumed the unblushing Bracy; ” De 
Grandeville w^as allowed, as a great favor, to peruse the pedigree, 
believed in it— ” 

” Or pretended to do so,” suggesteil Frere. 

“ To the fullest extent!” continued Bracy, not heeding the inter- 


406 LEWIS ARUNDEL. 

riiption, “ and the next thing 1 heard was that the parties were en- 
gaged/’ 

“ So he is actually going to marry a woman, without an idea, 
properl so called, in her head, and halt as old again as he is, for 
the sake of her money. Well, that’s an abyss of degradation I’ll 
never sink to while there is a crossing to be swept in London,” was 
Fiere’s disgusted comment. 

“ Chacnn d son gout--iov my own part I should prefer involun- 
tary emigration lor the good ot my country, vulgarly denominated 
transportation, to being married at all, even were the opposing 
parly (my hypothetical wife, 1 mean), the most thorough-bred angel 
that ever wore a bustle,” returned Bracy. ‘‘ By the way,” he con- 
tinued, ‘‘ 1 saw your little friend. Miss Arundel, the other day. She 
and her mother are staying with the ‘ Lombardic Character ’ 1 find, 
but of course you know all this better than 1 do; really that girl 
writes •exceedingly good sense for a woman. Now, it 1 were a 
marrying man, 1 don’t know any quarter in which I’d sooner throw 
the handkerchief.” 

” You might pick it up again for your pains, for she w^ouldn’t 
have you, i’ni sure,” growled Frere. 

Do you really believe so?” asked Bracy, with an incredulous 
smile. “Ahem! 1 flatter myself the little Arundel has better 
taste.” 

” Better sense than to do any such thing, you mean,” returned 
Frere, more crossly than before. ” Depend upon it, whenever Rose 
Arundel marries, she will choose a man who can respect and love 
her, and not a — well, 1 don’t mean to insult you, my good fellow, 
but truth will out— a self -conceited young puppy, wdiose head has 
been turned by foolish people, by whom his cleverness has been 
overrated, and his vanity fostered.” 

Bracy drew himself up, and for a minute pretended to look very 
fierce. Then bursting into a hearty laugh, he patted his companion 
on the back aftectionately, exclaiming: ” Poor old Frere! did 1 
put him in a rage? Never mind, old boy, 1 only wanted to know 
whether tliere was any truth in the report that you were engaged to 
Miss Arundel, and now let me congratulate you. Y'ou are no doubt 
quite right in thinking the young lady would have shown her wis- 
dom by selecting a ♦sensible man such as you are, rather than a 
muHen like myself, o^en if I were a marrying man, and had placed 
such a temptation before her.” 

Frere looked at him tor a moment in utter astonishment, then 
muttered. ‘‘A murien, indeed! 1 always prophesied that foot- 
boy of yours would die with a rope round his neck, but 1 begin to 
think the complaint wdiich will necessitate such an operation, runs 
in the family, and that servant and master are alike affected by it.” 

” And what may be the name of this alarming; epidemic w'hich 
you consider likely to terminate so fatally?” asked Brac>. 

” A most unmitigated and virulent form ot chronic impudence,” 
returned Frere, laughing. Then shaking hands most cordially, 
these two oddly assorted friends paited. 

Afler having left Bracy, Frere bent his steps toward the dwell- 
ing of Lady Lombard, with whom Mrs, Arundel and Rose were 
spending a few days for the avowed purpose of assisting to prepare 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


407 


her wedding paraphernalia, though, (as the most skilful dress-maker, 
and the most expensive tradesmen in Lc.ndon were at work in the 
good cause) their duties were merely nominal. Mrs. Arundel hav- 
ing explained to her hostess the nature of the engagement between 
Frere and her daughter, ihat excellent bear was allowed to run tame 
about the house. Lady Lombard, who was at hrst oppressed by 
a vague sense of his awful amount of learning, and decidedly 
alarmed at his snapping and growling, had become reconciled to his 
presence, on perceiving that Hose could tame him by a word or a 
smilQ, and committing him to her care and management, troubled 
herself no further about him. 

“ Rose, who do you think has gone to V'fnice?’' inquired Frere, 
after having disburdened his pockets ot a little library ol books, two 
large fossils, and the handle of a Roman sword, all highly prized 
and newly acquired treasures, which he had brought for Rose to 
appreciate, and to sympathize with him in his delight at having ob- 
tained them. 

“ To Venice,” returned Rose, “ oh! who? Do tell me.” 

” Why, lots of people, it seems,” replied Frere. ‘‘ 1 called upon 
my uncle, Lord Ashford, this morning, and found him in what is 
vulgarly termed a regular stew. Bellefield, it seems, had a horse 
which everybody fancied was to win the Derby; but what every- 
body fancied did not come to pass, for the said horse was beaten, 
consequently his owner has lost no end of money, for w^hich same 
I for one do not pity him. I have no sympathy with your ruined 
gamester, and ruined lie is, by the way, horse, foot and artillery, as 
the military De Grandeville would say. Well, poor Uncle Ashford 
showed me a note he had just received from his dutiful first-boin, 
telling him that he had not a farthing of ready nfoney in the world, 
except £50 to pay his journey, that he was quite unable to meet Ids 
engagements, and that before the settling day for the Derby, he 
must put the British Channel between him and those to whoni he 
owed sums so large that he neither wished nor expected his father 
to pay them; that he would feel obliged if his lordship would in- 
crease his 3 ^early allowance, and that he wished letters of credit to 
he forwarded to him at Venice, to which place he proposed immedi- 
ately to follow General Grant and his daughter, who it appears left 
England only three weeks ago. That it was ^his intention to marry 
the young lady forthwith, and live nhwnd upon her fortune, until 
something to his advantage should turn up, and he adds in a post- 
script that if his father should attempt to prevent his marriage by 
informing General Grant of what he is pleased to call his misfort- 
unes, that minute he will blow bis brains out. Well, poor uncle, 
wbo is a high-minded, honorable man, though he is rather proud 
and cold in his manner, could not bear the idea of bis son marrying 
Annie Grant without informing the general of his loss of fortune, 

and at length resolved to meet the difllculty by selling the H shire 

estate, and by that means inci easing Lord BellefiCld’s allowance, 
till It would amount to £3,000 a-year, in which case General Grant 
might be informed of the truth without the match being broken oil, 
or BelJefield driven to desperation, whereupon 1 observed innocent- 
ly enough, tliat the success of the scheme would, in a great meas- 
ure, depend on the tact of the person sent out to manage the negoti- 


408 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


ation. Lord Ashford agreed in this most cordially, and then saying 
how grateful he should teol to any one who would assist him in this 
strait, looked hard at me — ” 

‘'And you instantly undertook the commission. 1 know it as 
well as if 1 bad been present, and had heard all tliat passed,” inter- 
posed Rose, with a smile in which, though adcction t)redomiDated, 
a slight shade of regret might have been traced. 

‘‘ Why, you see, Rose, as 1 am one of the family, there seemed a 
kind of obligation upon me to do son»ething to help them, and poor 
Uncle Ashford did look so pitiful, and really if I had not uiuler- 
taken it, 1 don’t know v^ho could have been found to do so, for 
Bellefield quarreled with their family solicitor, because he refused 
to allow him to make ducks and drakes of some of the entailed prop- 
erty three years ago, and 1 shall not be goue long. Besides, 1 cfid not 
quite forget you, Rosey, tor, do you comprehend, 1 shall be able to 
see Lewis, without his fancying that 1 have been sent out expressly 
to look after him, and perhaps 1 may be able to persuade him to 
come home and live in England like a reasonable being and a Chris- 
tian. Al all events, 1 sliaU find out how be is going on there, and 
I’ve another thing to talk to Lewis about. 1 don’t mean to remain 
forever without a wife, Miss Rose— you need not turn your head 
away-' that’s sheer silliness— you know we are to be married some 
day; we expect matrincony will increaseour happiness, and we have 
better reason for our expectations than many of ttie tools wiio 3 ^oke 
themselves together for life. Those who do so, for instance, in order 
to obtain rank or riches— our next-door neighbor, to wit,” and he 
pointed w ith his thumb in the direction of the drawu’ng-roorn, where- 
in w ere seated the mighty De Grande ^ille and his lady love. ” As, 
therefore, my reasoning is good sound reasoning, and matrimony 
proved to be a desirable thing, why the sooner we get the ceremony 
over, the better; so, as 1 said before, don’t turn aw’ay your head 
like a hltle goose, seeing that you’re nothing of the kind!” 

” Poor Lewis,” murmured Rose, ‘‘he will scarcely rejoice to see 
3 ’ou, when he learns that the object of your mission is to hasten the 
marriage of Annie Grant witli Lord Bellefield. Oh! Richard,” 
she continued, eagerly, clasping her hands, ‘‘ il will make him hate 
3 ’ou— do not go.” 

” Well, now 1 never thought of that,” muttered Frere, thoroughly 
perplexed. “ ^Vhy will people go and fall in love with one another 
that didn’t ought to?” He paused, rubbed his hair back from his 
forehead till it slood on end like the crest of a cockatoo, played with 
Rose’s work-box, till he overturned it, and in his abstraction com- 
mitted BO in any gaucheries, that his companion was on the point of 
calling him to order, when he suddenl 3 ^ returned to his senses, and 
taking Rose’s hand in his began: ‘‘ Now, listen to me, my child; in 
the first place, as this matter nearly concerns Jjewis, and tln refore 
you, 1 will do nothing in it of which you do not approve, premising 
ibis, 1 will give you my own ideas on the subject. Touching 
Lewis’s interest in the affair, the question seems to hinge upon this 
point: does Annie Grant care lor him or not? If she does not, it 
can’t signify to him wdiom she marries, and as in that case she is 
probably attached to her cousin (women don't always love wisely, 
you know), 1 should feel able to cany out Uncle Ashford’s wishes 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


409 


with a clear conscience, and trust to Lewis’s good sense and kind 
heart not to incur bis displeasure by so doing. If, on the other hand. 
Annie by any chance loves him, and has been bullied or persuaded 
into this engagement, 1 for one will have nothing to do with pro- 
mo: ing the match, but on the contrary, will exert myself to the ut- 
most to prevent it; and now — what say you?” 

“ That, b 3 ^ doinf>: as you propose, you will act, rightly, kindl}^ and 
judiciously, and that come what may of it, your interference must 
be for good,” returned Rose, gazine; with looks of proud affection 
upon the simple hearted, high-principled, "'honest man” (indeed 
*' the noblest work ot God,”) who sat beside her; “ but.” she con- 
tinued. after a moment’s thought, ” there is one difficulty which 1 
scarcely see how you will get over — how are you to find out whom 
Annie Grant really loves?” 

” Ask her myself,” was the straightforward reply. Rose looked 
at him to see if he were joking, but his face was earnest and re- 
solved. 

” Oh, Richard, you will never be able to do that,” she remon- 
strated; ” remember how such a question must distress her.’’ 

” Which do you think will distress her most, to be asked ab- 
ruptly to give her confidence to a person who is anxious to befriend 
her, or to spend her life with one man when all the time she loves 
another?” inquired Frere, almost sternly. Then laying his hand on 
Rose’s h ad, and stroking her glossy hair, he continued: ” No- 
no, Rosey, away with all such sophistications, they are the devil’s 
emissaries, to render people first miserable, and then reckless and 
wicked— marriages, properly so termed, may be made in Heaven, 
but depend upon it, the spurious articles too often foisted upon the 
public under that name, alliances in which this world’s goods are 
everything, and the treasures of the next world nothing, come from 
ifuite another manufactory.” 

There was a pause, and then Rose inquired when he proposed to 
set out. 

” Why, there is no good in procrastinating,” was the reply, ” the 
sooner 1 start, the sooner 1 shall be back again; so to-morrow the 
law 3 ^er gets the necessary papers ready; the next day good Ijady 
Goosecap here is to be married, and 1 mean to attend the ceremony, 
in order to learn how to beiiave on such an occasion, and the day 
after that, it nothing unforeseen occurs to prevent mo. I’m off.” 

“You will write very often — every ’’—(Frere raised his eyebrows), 
“ well, then, every other day, will you not?” urged Rose, appeal- 
ingly. 

“ What queer things women are,” soliloquized Frere. “ Now, 
if you had been going to the North Pole,” he continued, addressing 
Rose, “ it would never have occurred to me to ash you to write, 1 
should have taken it for granted, that if you had discovered the 
north-west passage, or done an 3 dhiug else worth mentioning, you 
would have let one i^now, and why people write it the 3 " l^^^ve noth- 
ing to say, i can’t think.” 

“ At all events, it is a satisfaction, when we are parted from those 
who are dear to us, to be assured that they are well,” suggested 
Rose. 

“ Oh, nothing ever ails me,” replied Frere, quietly applying the re- 


410 


LEAVIvS ARUKDEL. 

mark to himself; “there is not a doctor in the CDuntry who has 
ever received one tarthing of m}’’ money, and as to ph3^sic— throw 
physic to the dogs, always supposing y'-ou have any sucli abomina- 
tion to dispose of, or any dogs at hand to throw it to: it’s a thing 
1 don’t know the taste of, and where ignorance is bliss— well, never 
mind, I’ll wiite to you all the same, if you have a weakness that 
way, whenever 1 can find pens, paper, and a post-office, only if my 
letters should happen to be rather prosy, somewhat in the much- 
ado-about-nothing style, small blame to me, that’s all.” Thus the 
expedition was agreed upon, and Rose, having told Frere some hun- 
dred things, which he was to say to and inquire of Lewis, sat 
down to write a few more “ notes and queries,” winding up with a 
pathetic appeal to her brother to bring his self-imposed exile to a 
conclusion. 

So, the silver-footed hours turned round the tread- mill of time 
till the dewy morn appeared which was to witness the celebration 
of the nuptials of Lady Lombard and the mighty Marmaduke De 
Grandeville. Oh, the ardor and bustle of that devoted household I 
As for the servants, so late did they sit up, and so early did they 
rise, that eoing to bed at all became rattier a superstitious observ- 
ance than a beneficial practice. Then everybody had to dress, fiist 
themselves, and then somebody else, and the amount of white mus- 
lin concentrated in that happy family, rendered space crisp, and 
gave a look of pastoral simplicity to the most iniquitously gorgeous 
arrangements of modern upholstery. 

The bride’s dress was wonderful— words are powerless to describe 
it — happy those women who, favored beyond all other daughters of 
Eve, were permitted to behold it. One very young lady, rash in 
her ignorance, ventured to ask how much the lace cost a yard. The 
French artiste, Mademoiselle Melanie Amandine Celcstine Seraphiue 
Belledentelles, piously invoked six authorized female saints, besides 
the deceased Madame Tournure, at whos(3 flounces she had sat to 
acquire her art, who on her lamented removal to Pt>re la Chaise, 
she had privately canonized for her own especial use and behoof, 
and thus supported did not faiut. The “ mistress of the robes,” a 
black-eyed, brown- cheeked grisette, turned as pale as her cornplex- 
on nl lowed of, and sunk upon a chair, but being unprovided wdth a 
smelling-oottle, thought it advisable not to proceed to extremities, 
and the mother of the culprit hurried forward, and with great pres- 
ence of mind led her from the room. Such mysteries are not for 
the profane. 

Then occurred a tremendous episode. The dress was disposed 
in graceful folds over the ample person of its fortunate possessor, 
ami fitted serapliically, only the bottom hook and 03^0, situated in 
the region round about the waist, would by no means permit them- 
selves to be united, and a lucid interval, hiatus mlde lachrymahilis, 
was the fearful consequence. Tfle grisette did her very utmost, 
but her strength was inadequate to command the success Jier zeal 
deserved, aud with flushed cheeks and tearful eyes, she glanced 
appealingly to Mademoiselle Melanie Amandine, etc., etc. 

That ardent foreigner stepped forward to the rescue, all the noble 
self-confidence of her nation flashing in her coal-black e3^es, and 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 411 

gallantly assumed the post of danger. She was a small woman, 
but her lrame was compact and wiry, and Tydeus-like, 

“ Her little body held a mighty mind.’* 

Setting to work with spirit, she devoted all her eneigies to the 
task before her, and Lady Lombaid winced palpably, unconsciously 
echoino: Hamlet’s well-known aspiration; but ^hat good lady’s melt- 
ing moods were unfortunately mental, not bodily, and in this at- 
tempt “ to take her in,” even the French dress-maker was foiled, tlie 
” too solid ” substance was not compressible beyond a certain point, 
and with a sigh which had a marvelous resemblance to the word 
sacr-r-r-e. Mademoiselle Melanie Amandine, etc., etc., desisted. 

''Ah! qu’ils sont difficiles, ces agraffes T' she exclaimed, rubbing 
her little hand with a theatrical gesture. ”1 have not to myself 
force in les poignets, vot you call oucles.” 

‘‘ Wrists,” tiiildly suggested Mrs. zVrundel, who was assisting to 
attire the bride. ” Mine are very strong; let me try,” and suiting 
the action to the word, she, Curtius-iike, endeavored to close the 
yawning gulf, but in vain. 

” Ah non! c'est imioossible—^ o\i shall only strain your hands too 
motch, cliere Aladame Uirondelle,'" resumed mademoiselle—” pmuit 
me to ring zie bell, we shall make approach le maiire d' hotels vot 
you call zie coachman of zie chambaire, who shall have much of 
foice, ct C6 sera un fait accompli,^' 

” Stop, madurmoysel,” exclaimed Lady Lombard, aghast, as the 
energetic Frenchwoman laid her hand upon the beli-rope, ” stop, it 
you please; 1 should not like— that is, it is not exactly the cuslom 
to admit the male domestics into one’s bedroom.” 

For a moment the Frenchwoman appeared utterly puzzled as to 
the reason of the objection, then a light broke in upon Her, and she 
began : 

” Ah, je comprends ! it ees not etiquette, queje siiis bete ! how am 
1 slupide! mais quHls sont drdles,ces petits seandales Anglais ! Vmi- 
ment c'est comme la comedie. A Paris nous ne remarquons pas ces 
peiits riens; et en Allemagne, zie Schneider, vat you call tailor, Us 
font toiites les robes— mais comment fair e done?'* 

” Why really, madurmoysel, ye mir par—1 mean 1 don’t think 1 
could bear it, if it was got to,*' remonstrated Lady LDuibard; 
” don’t you think the hook and eye might be moved a little? It’s un- 
fortunate 1 am so stout — mais je nur — can’t help it, ” 

” Oh, mille pardons, miladi. Your lady sheep shall not be too 
stout; apres la pvemih'e jeunesse, V embonpoint is a great beauty; 
but zie hook and ee, e'est dommage ; cependant, nous verrons ve 
shall see vot vill be done.” And so saying, JMademoiselle Melanie, 
etc.’s nimble fingers went to work, and a quarter of an inch was 
graciously accorded, by which means the impossible became possi- 
ble, and the crisis was safely got over. 

As to breakfast (not t e wedding-breakfast, but the breakfast 
before the wedding, two very different matters), that W'as a regular 
or rather an irregular scramble —people ate and drank standing, 
like horses, but in a general w^ay, feelings w^ere stronger than appe- 
tites, and with the exception of one middle-aged lady, blessed with 
a powerful intellect and a weak digestion, who having medical 


413 


LEWIS ARUIS^DEL. 


authority never to allow herself to feel hungry, bieakfasted three 
times that morning with three different divisions of the party, little 
justice was done to the viands. 

Kose made herself generally useful, helping all the neglected 
ones, and bringing comforts to the uncomfortable, until she scarcely 
left liersdf time to dress, and 5^et appearing the most charming little 
bride-maid of the lot, although her five companions did not dis- 
grace their uniform of white muslin, and pink embellishments (the 
white symbolizing their maiden innocence, and the piu^: suggesting 
the cheerfulness with which they would be willing to exchange it 
for the honorable estate of matrimony.) 

Then the carriages came to lake up. and Mrs. Arundel and the 
fair Susanna, relict of Colonel Brahmin, H.E.I.C.S., had the great- 
est difficulty in sustaining the weak nerves and fluttered spirits of 
the bride-elect, who, as she herself expressed it, “ borne down b}^ 
two such agitating sets of recollections,” might well be overcome. 
However, by the assistance of a rich male Lombard relation (whose 
wealth gilded his vulgarity, till Mammon worshipers believed this 
calf a deity) she was safely conveyed to the church, where De Grau- 
clevilie awaited her, accompanied by a splendid old ancestor, who 
might by a very slight stretch of imagination, have been taken for 
the identical De Grandeville, who liad come over with the Conquer- 
or, and been carefully preserved (in port wine) ever since. Bracy 
was there, looking preternaturally solemn all but bis eyes, in wliich 
foi the time being, the whole mischief of his nature appeared con- 
centrated, and Frere with him, serving his apprenticeship, as Bracy 
phrased it. 

In solemn procession they approached the altar, where the priest 
awaitt d them, and, on opening his book, read to them an account 
of the true nature of the ceremony tlie}^ were about to celebrate — 
bow it was “ instituted by God in the time of man’s innoceucy,” 
and was symbolical of high and holy things, and being ordained, to 
assist us in fulliUing the various duties tor which we are placed in 
this world, and on the due performance of which will greatly de- 
pend our weal or woe for everlasting, it should not be undertaken 
lightly or unadvisedly; then De Grandeville, having learned the 
theory ot the matter, proceeded to afford a practical conimentary on 
the text by solemnly promising to love and honor Lady Lombard 
till death them should part, while she, in reUirn, pledged herself 
(with less chance of perjury) to serve, obey, and keep him during 
the term of her natural life. Then he, Marmaduke, took her, 
Sarah, from the hands of the wealthy Lombard relation, and de- 
clared that he did so “ for richer, for poorer,” though we much fear 
if he had foreseen the smallest probability of the realization of this 
latter proviso, the ceremony would have been then and there inter- 
rupted, insteaci ot proceeding as it did, sweetly and edityiugly, till 
it wound up with “ any amazement.” And everybody being much 
pleased and thoroughly^ satisfied, there was, of course, a great (l(‘al 
of crying, tliough why they cried, unless it was to see so solemn an 
institution thus wantonly profaned, and to hear people use words 
ot prayer and praise, and worship God with their lips, while in 
their hearts they were sacriticing all the better feelings ot their nat- 
ure before the altar of Mammon, we can not tell. 


LEAVIS AKUNDEL. 


413 


Among the rest, Mrs. Arundel wept most meritoriously, until 
catching sight of liracy sobbing aloud into a very large pocket- 
handkerchief, her weeping became somewhat hysterical, an[l ended 
in a sound suspiciously like laughter. Then people crowded into 
the vestry, which was about the size of a good four- post bedstead, 
and names were signed, and fees paid, and small jokes made, and 
then the whole party took coach, and returned to the house, w’here 
the wedding-breakfast awaited them; the humors of a wedding- 
breakfast have been described so often and so well, that we shall 
merely give a very faint outline of the leading idiosyncrasies of 
the affair in question. 

In the first place, people were very Hungry, nature having as- 
serted her rights, and promoted appetite, m (^ feeling sold out. Even 
the lady with the w'eak digestion (which made up by increased 
velocity for want of stamina) added a very substantial fourth to her 
three previous breakfasts. Then, as mouths grew disengaged, 
longues found room to wag, healths were drunk, and the speech- 
ifying began. First uprose the De Grande ville ancestor, who was 
a tall, thin, not to say shadowy, old gentleman, with a hooked 
nose and a weak voice, who whispered to the company, that “he 
rose to— “ Here his face twitched violently, and he paused, in 
evident distress. “ He rose to— “ Here a tremendous sneeze ac- 
counted for the previous spasm, and the patient, evidently relieved, 
proceeded: “He rose to — “ Once again he paused, struggling 
furiously with the tails of his coat. “ He begged to call the atten- 
tion of the company— he had — “ Still the struggles with the coat- 
tails continued. “ He had a toast to propose.’' Here, amid breath- 
less attention, he whispered to his nephew in an aside, audible 
throughout the whole room: “ Marmaduke, I’ve left it in my great- 
coat— the left-hand pocket, you know; the toast was this — thank 
you, Jenkins,’' to the butler, who brought the missing handker- 
chief on a silver waiter, sticky with the overflowings of cham- 
pagne; “ ilm was his toast, and he hoped that the company w'ould 
do it justice: Health and happiness to the bride and bridegroom.” 

And the company did it justice; so much so, that if the health 
and happiness of the newly married pair depended on the amount 
of champagne their friends appeared willing to drink at their ex- 
pense, sickness and sorrow were evils against wdiich the)^ might 
consider themselves amply secured. Silence being restored, the 
bridegroom rose to return thanks, his inborn greatness manifesting 
itself in every look and gesture, and dignified condescension adding 
a new grace to his sonorous voice and grandiloquent delivery. Hav- 
ing glanced round the table wdth the air of a monarch (in a fairy 
extravaganza) about to address his parliament, he cleared his noble 
throat, and began: 

“In rising to — ar — return thanks for the honor you have done 
us, in so cordially assenting to the toast proposed by a man whose 
presence might confer a favor upon the most aristocratic assembly 
in the land — a man whom-»ar — even at this moment, which 1 have 
no hesitation — ar— in— ar— ” (hear, hear, and [question from 
Bracy) “I repeat, no hesitation in — in — no hesitation in— ar- -de- 
claring to be at once the proudest and happiest moment of my life 
—a man who, even in this season of felicity, 1 yet distinctly— ar— 


414 


LEWIS AltUNDEL. 


yes, distinctly say 1 envy, for be lias the honor to represent tbe elder 
branch of that ancient and illustrious house of which 1 am a com- 
paratively insijrnificant ” — (a groan ot indignant denial from Bracy, 
which produced him a gracious smile from the speaker)— “ 3'es, 1 — 
ar — repeat it, a comparatively insignificant, but 1 hope, not an en- 
tirely unworthy descendant.’' Here Bracy, alter a slight struggle 
with Frere, who sought to prevent him, rose, and speaking appar- 
ently under feelings of the greatest excitement, said: “ He was 
sorry to interrupt tlie flow of eloquence which was so much de- 
lighting the company, but he was certain every one would agree 
with him in saying, that Mr. I)e Grandeville’s last observation, 
however creditable it might be to him, as evincing his unparalleled 
and super-Christian (if he might be allowed the term) humility, 
could not be allowed to pass unchallenged. He put it to them col- 
lectively, as intellectual beings; he pul it to them individually, as 
gallaut men and lovely women (immense sensation), if his noble 
friend, the illustrious man to whose words of fire they had just 
been listening, were allowed to set himself forth to the world as 
‘ comparatively insignificant ’ and ‘ not entirely unworthy,’ he asked 
them if such terms as these were allowed to be applied to such a 
character as that, where was society to seek its true ‘ monarchs of 
mind '? where should it look for those heaven-gifted soul-heroes — 
those giants of thought, those ‘Nableis’ and ‘ that NoiiLEST,’ to 
quote the glowing words of one of the leading writers of the age, 
by whom its evils were to be remedied, its abuses reformed, and its 
whole nature purified and regenerated — he put it to them to declare 
whether Mr. De Grandeville must not be entreated to recall his 
words V” 

Deafening applause follow'ed Bracy ’s harangue, and the amend- 
ment was carried 7iem con, Thirs fooled to the top of his bent, De 
Grandeville resumed his speech, and after making a very absurd 
display ot egotistic nonsense, family pride and personal pretension, 
gave the health of the company generally, and of his ancient an- 
cestor and the. vulgar Lombard relation in particular. Then more 
tealtlis were drunk, and more speeches made, and a great amount 
ot stupidity elicited, interspersed with some drollery, when Bracy 
was called upon to return thanks for the bride-maids, which he did 
in an affected falsetto, smiling, blushing, coquetting, and screwing 
up imaginary ringlets, much after the fashion ot the inimitable 
John Pariy, when it pleases him to enact one of the young ladies 
of England in the nineteenth century. Then the female portion 
of the company retired to relieve their feelings by a little amateur 
crying and kissing, champagne and susceptibility being myste- 
riously united in the tender bosoms of the softer sex; then the 
miraculous robe w'as taken off, and the bride re-attired for traveling, 
then the gentlemen came upstairs, all more or Jess “ peciiliar ” from 
drinking wdne at that unaccustomed hour in the morning, and some 
little business was transacted; one spirited bride-maid, who had 
had a shy young man nibbling for sometime, actually harpooning 
her fish, and landing him skillfully beyond all chance of flounder- 
ing out of an engagement, by referring him on the spot to mamma. 
Mrs. Arundel, who by this time had learned to entertain a most 
ladylike and uu-Christian haired against the fair Susannah, mail- 


LEWIS AEUUDEL. 415 

cioiisly laid herself out to captivate the limp and unstable affections 
ot Mr. Dackeiel Dace, anJ succeeded so well, that she actually be- 
gan to deliberate whether opulence and triumph over her rival, 
might not render Dace endurable as a permanency. Then Ibe 
traveling carriage with Newman’s four grays drew up to the door, 
and the stereotyped adieus were spoken, the stereotyped smiles 
smiled and tears shed, and all the necessary nonsense rehearsed with 
most painstaking diligence, the only original feature in the wdiole 
affair being Frcre’s remark to Bracy, as the happy pair drove oft: 

“ You were about right, old fellow, when you compared iiiarrv 
ing to hanging. I tell you what it is, sooner than undergo all this 
parade of folly, absurdity and bad taste, I’ll be spliced at the pier- 
head at Dover, and set sail for Calais as soon as the ririg is on the 
bride’s finger; better to be sea sick, thlin sick at heart with such 
rubbish ns we’ve been witness to.” 


CHAPTER LVlll. 

DEPICTS THE HERO IN. AN UNA3IIARLE LIGHT. 

Lord Bellefield safely accomplished his journey to Venice, 
reaching that city of palaces without let or hindrance. Despite his 
imperturbable assurance, a close observer might have discovered 
from external signs that his lordship was ill at oase, and in no par- 
ticular was it more apparent than in the marked change in his man- 
ner toward General Grant and his daughter. The cold nonchalance 
with whicli he formcily tolerated the general’s stateliness, and the 
easy, almost impertinent confidence, with which he had been ac- 
customed to prosecute his suit to Annie, had given place to an 
affectation of studiously courteous deference when he addressed the 
father, and to respectful yet Icndei devotion in his inteicourse with 
the daughter, which proved that to secure the gooil opinion of the 
former, and, it possible, the affection of tbe latter, had now become 
a matter of importance to him. With General Grant he was in 
gieat measure successful, that gallant officer believing, in his sim- 
plicity. that his intended son-iu-law had at length finisheji sowing 
his wild oats, a species ot seed, which being, universally acknowl- 
edged to contain, besides every small vice ext*ant, the germs of the 
seven deadly sins, has this remarkable peculiaiity, that being once 
sown, it is popularly supposed to bring forth a plentiful crop of all 
the domestic virtues. Deluded by this fallacy, the general fondly 
trusted that the coming event ot matrimony had cast its shadow 
before, and extinguished all the wild fire which had hitherto flung 
its baleful glare over his lordship’s comet-like course; or, to drop 
metaphor, and condescend to that much better thing, plain English, 
the gallant officer taught himself to believe, that Lord Bellefield had 
at length seen the error of his ways and intended to marry and live 
virtuously ever after. With the lady, however, his lordship did not 
succeed so easily, and. skillful tactician as he not nnjustl}^ consid’ 
ered himself, never had he felt more completely bewildered or more 
thoroughly perplexed how to act. Annie’s whole nature appeared 
to him so completel3^ alteretl, that he could hardly recognize her as 


41G 


LEWIS AKUXDEL. 

the same person. Instead of the simple, amiable, cliild-like charac- 
ter. which he had despised but fancied would do very well tor a 
wife, be now found a proud, capricious beauty, w’^hose mood seemed 
to vary between cold indifterence and a teasinu:, sarcastic humor, 
which he could neither fathom nor control. It Le tried to interest 
or anuise her, she listened with a careless, dititraU manner, 
which proved his efforts to be completely unavailing; if he at- 
tempted the tender or sentimental, she laughed at him, tuining all 
he said into ridicule, by two or three words of quiet but bitter 
iron}^ She appeared tacitly to acquiesce in llieir engagement, but 
any attempt to fix a time for its fulfillment served only to estrange 
her still more. Does the reader think this change unnatural? May 
he never witness the alteration which a grief such as x^nnie’s makes, 
eveu in the gentlest natures, may he never experience tlie bitterness 
of that nascent despair, which sours the sweetest tempcM-, and forces 
cold looks and cutting words from eyes accustomed to beam with 
teuilerness, and lips from which accents of affection alone were 
wont to fiow. One morning, rather more than a week after Lord 
Beliefield’s arrival, an expedition was proposed to visit one of the 
architectural lions of the picturesque old city, and as the general 
seemed inclined to accede to the scheme, an 1 Annie made no objec- 
tion, it was agreed that they should go. 

“ i make one proviso,” observed Charles Leicester, ‘‘ and that is 
that you come home in good time. 1 don’t want to frighten you, 
in tact there is nothing to be frightened about, only 1 know that 
there has been for some time past, a spirit of disaffection abroad 
among the workmen at the arsenal, and if they should attempt to 
make a demonstration by congregating in the squares and few open 
spaces in this amphibious city, it might be disagreeable for you.” 

” But is such an event a1 all probable?” inquired Laura. 

” Why, yes,” was the reply. ” 1 had a note this morning tiom 
Arundel—” Catching a reproachful look from his wife, Chailey 
stopped in momentary embarrassment, then continued: “A — that 
is from a friend of mine, telling me such a thing was possible; how- 
ever, ril-^o with you myself, and keep you in proper order.” 

As Charley in his forgetfulness blundered out the name of Arundel, 
Laura did not flare to look at Annie; when, however, she venturecl 
a moment afterward to steal a glance toward her, her features wore 
tne cold, listless look which had now, alas! become habitual to 
them, and exhibited no sign of emotion by which her friend could 
decide whether she bad remarked the name, or whether it had 
passed without striking her ear. Almost imuiedialely ailerward she 
rose, and saying she supposed she had better get ready, quitted the 
room. Lord Bellefield had not been present at this little scene. 
With faltering steps Annie sought her own apartment, closed and 
locked the door; then, instead of preparing to dress, flung heiselt 
into an easy chair, and pressing her hand upon her throbbing tem- 
ples, tried to collect lier thoughts. She had heard the name only 
too clearly, and combining it with Walter’s tale of the trhosl, bad 
guessed tiie truth. He was then in Venice, and not only that, hut 
he had evidently establisiied some communication with the Leices- 
ters, and must therefore be aware of the presence of her father and 
herself; nay, by what she had gathered from Charles’s speech, ho 


417 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 

mn?t be actually engaged in watcliinf^ over their safety; and as the 
idea struck her, a soft, bright liglit came into her eyes, and a faint 
])!usli r( stored roses to her ch(*eks, so tliat any one who had seen 
lier five minutes before, would scarcely have recognized her tor the 
same person; “ b>it with what purpose could he be there? Why, 
If tlie Leicesters knew it, hatl they so studiously concealed it from 
her — from kerf and as she repeated the woids, the recollertion of 
VV'alter’s speech, “ lie went away because he loved you, and you did 
not love him/’ flashed across ner. “ What it it were true? If he 
redly had loved her, and luVd left them because his feelings were 
becoming too strong for his control? ” and then a thousand remem- 
bered circumstances (trifles in themselves, but confirmatory of that 
which she now almost believed to be the truth) occurred to her. But 
if this were indeed the case, if, instead of resigning his situation be- 
cause, as her tears had urged, he had guessed at the nature of her 
sentiments toward him, he had loved her, and his honorable feelings 
had driven him into a self-imposed exile, what must he not have 
sutT(‘red? And. oh! knowing as much as he did of her feelings 
toward Lord Bellefield, what must he not have thought of her, when 
he learned that in less than four-and -twenty hours after his depart- 
ure, she had renewed her engagement to a man he was aware she 
both disliked and mistrusted. Above all, what a false view it must 
have given him of her feelings toward himself! Oh, how she 
hoped, how she prayed this blow might have been spared him! Then 
the present, what did it mean? The future, how would it turn out? 
On one point she was determined: only let her ascertain beyond a 
doubt that Lewis loved her, and she would die rather than marry 
Lord Bellefield. The evils I hat bet all us in this world are not with- 
out even their temporal benefit. Two years oi hopeless sorrow had 
given a species of desperate courage to a mind naturally prone to a 
want of self-dependence. Anything was preferable to the anguish 
she had gone through, and Annie Grant’s decision now was very 
diilerent from the “ lady’s yea ” or nay she would have uttered ere 
the storm of passion had swept over her maiden spirit. 

The eftect produced on Annie by the new light which had broken 
in upon her, did not immediately pas-^ away, and allhough Iier re- 
marks were chietly addressed to her Cousin Charles, Lord Belle- 
field was equally puzzled by the change in her manner. In order 
to reach the building they were about to visit, tliey were forced to 
disembark from their gondola, and after proceeding along a species 
of cloister to cross one of the loot bridges which so constantly, in 
Venice, intersect the canals. Under the shade of an arch of this 
cloister, stood the tall figure of a man. As the party approached 
he drew back further into the shadow, aud, himself unseen, ob- 
served them attentively as they passed. The excitement of tlie 
morning h;id left its liaces in the flushed cheek aud sparkling eye 
of Annie Grant. At the moment she quitted the boat, Charley 
Jjcicester had made her laugh h}^ some quaint remark on the per- 
sonal appearance of a fat little individual wlio was one of the gon- 
doliers, but whose figure by no means coincided with the romantic 
associations his avocation recalled. As, leaningon Lord Bellefield’s 
arm, siie passed the arch behind which the stranger was conce.alcd, 
her companion addressed to her some observation, which necessitated 
14 


418 


LEWIS ARUNLEL. 


a reply. Turning to him with the smile Leicester’s observation had 
provoked still upon her lips, the light fell strongly on her teatiires, 
revealing them fully to the eager gaze of (for we intend no niysti- 
ficMtion as to his identity) Lewis Arundel. Me looked after them 
with straining eyeballs, till a corner of the building hid them from 
Ills view. Then dark lines spread across his forehead, the proud 
nostril arched, the stern mouth set, the hashing eye grew cold and 
stony, the spirit of evil seemed to lake possession of him. 

“ 8o,” he muttered, “ it has come to this; with my own e,yes have 
1 beheld her perfidy. It is well that it should be so, the curse will 
be the more complete, and yet he pressed his huud to his throb- 
bing brow— “ yet, how beautiful she is. She is changed; her face 
has acquired expression, soul, power, all it wanted to render it per- 
fect, and— to madden me.” 

He paused, then appearing to have collected strength, continued 
more calmly: ” Yes, I have seen it; she clung to his arm, she smiled 
on him, she loves and will marr}’^ him. It is over; for me there 
must be no past; 1 must sweep it from my memory. Happiness I 
can never know; as far as the affections are concerned, the game of 
life is played. AVell, be it so, my art still is left me, and the dark, 
unknown future.” 

Again he paused. Ere the arrival of the party, the sight of which 
liad so deeply affected him, he hail been skelching an antique gable 
opposite. He resumed his work, and by a few hasty but graphic 
strokes, transferred to his sketch-book the object which had attract- 
ed him to the spot. Replacing his drawing aiaterials, he continued: 
” ’Tis strange how the sight of that man affected me. 1 fancied 1 
had taught myself the evil and folly of nourishing sentiments of 
hatred against him, and yet the moment 1 beheld him all the old 
feelings rushed back upon me with redoubled vigor. 1 must avoid 
his presence, or my wise resolutions will go for nothing.” He 
sighed deeply. ” Then, this is all the fruit of two years of menial 
discipline, to find, at the end of the time, that 1 love her as deeply, 
and hate him as bitterly as 1 did at the beginning. Oh, it is 
humiliating thus to be the slave of passion!” 

Communing with himself after this fashion, Lewis quitted the 
spot, and proceeded in the direction of liisown lodgings. On reach- 
ing the square of St. Mark’s he was surprised lo find it partially oc- 
cupied by an excited crowd, apparently composed of the very lowest 
of the people, its numbers being constantly swelled by fresh parties 
pouring in from various pails ot the city. It instantly occurred to 
Lewis That in order to reach the Palazzo Grassini, Leicester and Ids 
companions would be forced to ciosstlie square, and coiiseqiK'iitly 
obliged to make their way through the crowd, and a feding vvhicii 
he did not attempt to analyze, but which, in truth, was anxiety for 
Annie’s safei3\ determined him to remain there till he had seen them 
return. Accordingly, turning up his coat-?olIar, aud slouching his 
hat over his eyes in order to conceal his features, he mingled wiih 
file crowd. In the meantime the Grant parly, ignorant oF the difli- 
culties that awaited them, were qiiietl^^ examining statues and criti- 
cising pictures 

‘‘ Laura, you look tired, and Annie seems as if she were becoming 
somewhat ' used up,’ ” observed Leicester, glancing from his wife 


LEWIS AUUNDEL. 


419 


toward his cousin; oo wonder, either, for weVe been on oiir feet 
for more than two hours, and as for my share in tlie matter, 1 tell 
you plainly, it’ you keep me liere much longer, you’ll have to carry 
me home on your back, Mrs. Leicester, for walk 1 won’t.” 

Thus urged, the ladies confessed their fatigue, and their willing- 
ness to return, but there was still another gallery of paintings un- 
seen, which the general evidently wished to visit. He had com- 
missioned an aitist to copy two or three of them and he re- 
quired Lord Bellefield's opinion as to the propriety of liis choice. 
This occasioned a dilRculty, which Laura met by proposing the 
following scheme, viz., tiiat she, Annie, and Charley should 
leave the general and Lord Belletield to their own devices, and 
taking a gondola, row to a point at which they would be wiiiiin 
two miuittes’ walk of St. Mark’s. Lord BellefieUi made some slight 
remonstrance, and it was clear he disapproved of the scheme, but 
the general was peremptory, so he had no resource but to submit 
with the best grace he was able. 

‘‘ Famous things gondolas are, to be sure,” observed Chiirley, as, 
placing a cushion beneath his head, he stretched himself at lull 
hmgth under the awning; ” they afford almost the only instance that 
has come under my notice, in which the intensely romantic, and ihe 
very decidedly comfortable, go hand in l»aud — they cut out cabs, 
and beat ’busses into tits; now, we only want a little melody to 
mtdve the thing perfect — Laura, sing us a song.” 

” Sing you asleep, you mean, you incorriigible — ” 

‘‘ There, that will do; don’t become vituperative, 3"ou termagant,” 
interrupted her husband. ” Annie, dear, gentle Cousin Annie, war- 
ble foith something romantic with your angel voice, do, and .1 11 say 
you’re—” 

” Wnat?” inquired Annie. 

” A regular stunner!” was the reply. 

” And if the epithet be at nW appropriate, it clearly proves me un- 
qiialifieci for the office,” returned Annie, smiling, ” so you really 
must hold me excused.” 

” Then the long and the short of the matter is that the duty de- 
volves upon me,” rejoined Charley, and slowly raising himselt into 
a half sitting, halt kneeling attitude, he placed himself at his wife’s 
feet, atter the fashion of those veiy interesting cavaliers who do the 
romantic on the covers of sentimental songs, then having played an 
inaudible prelude upon a supposititious guitar, lie placed one hand 
upon his heart, and extending the other in a theatrical attitude 
toward the boatman, began: 

” Gondolier row — o!” 

when, having extemporarily parodied the first verse of that popular 
melody, be was beginning the second with: 

Ain’t this here go— o 

Glorious oh — o— ” 

when the prow of the gondola struck against the steps where they 
were to land, with so sharp a jerk as to pitch the simror on his hands 
and Knees, and eflectuallj^ check his vocalizing. After discharging 


4;^0 


LEWIS ARUIIDEL. 


the boatman they proceeded a short distance along the bank ot the 
canal, and then turned down a narrow lane or alley leading to tlie 
sfiiiare ot St. Mark’s. In this Leicesier was annoyed to perceive 
knots of disrepulable-looking men, talking rapidly, or Imriying 
along with eagei gesiuies towanl the square. Finding, as they ad- 
vanced, that the crowd became thicker, Leicester paused, ii resolute 
whetiier or not to proceed. 

“ Surely we had better turn back,” urged Laur-a. “ 1 should 
not he afraid if we were alone, for 1 know you could take care of 
me, but — ” and she glanced toward Annie, who, although she saiil 
nothing, had turned very pale and clung wiiii convulsive enei’gy to 
her cousin’s arm. Charles iooktd back, and tc his utter dismay, 
perceiveil that the crowd behind had been increased by a fresh ac- 
cession of numbers, and that their retreat was effectually cut off. 

“There is nothing remaining for us but to keep on,” he said; 
“ the stieam of people appears, fortunately, to be going cur way, 
and all we can do is io go with it; 1 dare say they are too much en- 
grossed by their own allaiis to trouble their lieads about us. MThat- 
evei occurs, don’t let my arm, tithcr of you. It is rather dis- 
agreeable, certainly, but there is nothing to be leally afraid of, and 
we shall reach home in live minutes.” 

Hoping these assertions, in reirard to the truth of which he was 
himself somewiial skeptical, might suffice to reassure his eompaii- 
iohs, Leicester continued Ins course, occasionally annoyed by the 
pressure of the crowd, but not otherwise molested till they reached 
the square of St. Mark’s. Here the sight that awaited them was by 
no means encouraging. The whole space was filled with a dense 
crowd of the lowest rabble of Venice, who, many of them the worse 
for liquor, appeared in a state of considerable excitement, and filled 
tiie air witli mingled shouts, ciies, and curses. To pass safely 
through such an assembly, with his attention divided between his 
two charges, appeared next to impossible, and thoroughly perplexed, 
diaries Leicester paused, unable to decide whether it were better to 
advance or attempt to retrace their steps. As he thus pondered a 
rush ot people forced them forward, and they found themselves 
rompleiely hemmed in b}^ the crowd, while from the pressure of 
those aroimd them, Laura and Annie experienced the greatest diffi- 
culty'in retaining their grasp of Charley’s arm. Still no jiersoiial 
incivility was offered them, and Leicester began to hope they might 
gradually make their way aci’oss tne square willioiit actual danger, 
when a cry from Annie convinced him or his error. The cause of 
her alarm was as follows: One of that industrious Irateruity (some 
members ot which arc to be met with in every large city), whose 
principles in regard to the rights of property are reprehensihly lax, 
attracted by the sparkling of a valuable brooch in Annie s shawl, 
conceived the opportunity too good to be lost. Accordingly, piess- 
iug close to her, he made a snatch at the ornament, seizing it so 
rutlely as to tear it from lier shoukler. As, alarmed by lier cry, 
Charles turned to discover its cause, a tall figure sprung forward 
aiuf wrested fjis spoil from the robber, lliiiging him off at the same 
time with such lorcc that he staggered and fell, then addressing 
Jjeiccsier, the stranger said, in a deep, stern voice, each accent of 
which thrilled through Annie’s very soul; 


LEWIS AliUNDEL. 421 

“ Make for the church steps— think only of protecting Mrs. Leices- 
ter—/ will he answerable for this lady’s safety.” 

Then Annie was conscious that her shawl was replaced and care- 
fully wrapped round her, and sue telt herself halt led, half carried 
forward by one betc ie wliose lesislless strength all obstacles seemed 
as it were to melt away. How tiny passed through that .\elling, 
maddened crowd she never knew; but ere she had well recevered 
from her first alarm at the ruffian’s attack she found herself placed 
on the steps of St. Mane’s Church, her back leaning against a 
column, and the tall dark figure of lier preserver standing statue- 
like beside her, in sucli a position as to screen her from tlie pressure 
of the crowd. Involuntarily she glanced up at his features. Hid- 
den by the coat-collar and slouched hat, the only portion of his face 
that remained visible was the tip of a black mustache, the proud 
arched nostril, and the cold stony gaze of two fierce black t*yes fixed 
upon her as though they would pierce her very soul. It was a look to 
haunt iier to her dying day, and worse than all, sJie understood it. In 
a moment the truth flashed upon her. He had loved her. He knew 
she was about to marry his bitterest enemy, and now he hated her. 
Poor Annie, if mental agony could kill, that instant she had died. 
Lewis, thou art bitterly avenged 1 

” What is the next move?” inquired Leicester, coming up with 
his arm round his wife’s waist and his hat crushed into the shape 
of a biffin. 

“ VVait here for a few minutes,” returned Lewis, ‘‘ the crowd is 
already dispersing in the direction of the arsenal.” 

” The arsenal, what do they want there?” inquired Leicester, 

‘‘ To waylay Marinovich, as he leaves the place, and murder 
him,” returned Lewis, in a stern whisper; ” but he has been warned 
of their design, and will of course take measures to insure his safety. ” 

” Pleasant all this,” muttered Leicester, tt king off his injured hat 
and endeavoring in some degree to restore it to its original shape. 
” Here’s a ca'e of wanton destruction; glad it is not my head all the 
same. Now, the coast scen;s pretty clear. Suppose we move on.” 

Coldly and silently Lewis lesumed his oiHce of guardian; the 
space intervening between St. Mark’s Church and the Palazzo Grass- 
ini was passed in safety, and they stood within the court- 5 ^ard of 
Leicester's dwelling. Cliarley laid his hand on Lewis’s shoulder: 

” You will come in?” he said; ” you are hot and tired, and re- 
quire refreshment — a glass of wine?” Lewis shook his head. 

‘‘It is impossible,’' he replied, coldly. Then adding: ” 1 am 
happy to have been of use to — to Mrs. Leicester and 3 murself,” he 
raised his hat sljghtly to Annie and turned to depart; recollecting, 
liowcver, that he still held in his hand the brooch which he had 
rescued from the ruffian’s clutches, he [)aused with the intention of 
giving it to Laura, but Laura had caught sight of ” Turley’s ” curly 
head peeping out at her, and actuated by a sudden impulse of mater- 
nal allecliou, or for some other reason which we shall not attemnt 
to fatliom, she had tripped oft in the direction of her self-willed off- 
spring. Leicester was slowly following her, all his faculties appar- 
ently engiossed by a second attempt to reform his outraged hat. 

Lewis and xYnnie were left, tlierefoie, virtually alone. Advanc- 
ing toward her with an expression of countenance so cold and im- 


422 LEWIS AKUNDEL. 

movable that every feature might have been carved in marble, Lewis 
began : 

“ 1 beg pardon, 1 had forgotten to return your brooch/’ 

It was the first time that morninc: he had personaliy addressed 
her, and his doing so appeared to break the spell wdiicli had kept 
her silent. She took the brooch from him. murmuring some indis- 
tinct words of thanks, then gaining courage as she proceeded, she 
glanced at him appealingly, saying: 

“ Strange as this meetmg is, 1 am sirre 1 can not be mistaken — 
Mr. Arundel, have you quite forgotten me?” 

As she uttrred these words a kind of spasm passed across Lewis’s 
face, and for a moment he appeared afraid to trust himself to 
speak. Recovering, however, he replied in the same cold, meas- 
ured tone which he had used throughout the adventure. 

” Ko, Miss Grant, 1 ” (and he laid an enrphasis on the pronoun 
so light, that a casual observer would not have detected it, and yet 
which shot a pang thi’ough Annie’s heart, that caused her color to 
come and go and her limbs to tremble), ” do not forget so quickly.” 

Unable to meet his glance which she felt was fixed upon her. and 
scarcely conscious, in her agitation, of what she was saying, Annie 
faltered out: 

‘‘You will give hiy lather an opportunity of thanking you, 1 
hope. He will, 1 can not doubt, that is, we shall all be glad to re- 
new our intimacy with so old a friend.” 

Lewis paused ere he could trust himself to reply. Her evident 
emotion, the earnestness of her manner, half-timid, halt-imploring, 
tended to soothe his wounded spirit and disarm his wrath: but the 
vision of the morning, in which he had seen her clinging to Lord 
Bellefield’s arm and smiling upon him, was too fresh in Ins recollec- 
tion, and the demon of pride and jealousy still retained full domin 
ion over him. 

“You must pardon me,” he said, ‘‘1 will reserve my visit to 
General Grant till I can congratulate him on his daughter’s wed- 
ding. ” Then raising his hat ceremoniously, he bowed to her and 
was gone. 


CHAPTER LIX. 

“points a moral,” and so it is to be hoped, “adorns a 

TALE.” 

No traces of the tumultuous assembly, which had so greatly 
alarmed Laura and Annie, remained when Lord Bellefield and 
General Grimt crossed the square of St. Maik’s, on (heir ret.iru 
from the morning’s sight-seeing. As they drew near the Palazzo 
Grassini, a tall lad in squalid raiment, leaning upon crutches, and 
with a patch over one eye, approached and begged of them. The 
general at first refused to listen to him, but becoming wearied by 
his peitiiiacily, felt in his pocket for something to give him. 

“ I iiave no small change about me,” he remarked, after a min 
ute’s ineffectual search, “hut you have, Bellefield; they gave you 
a liandful of their stui)id little coins at the last shop we went into. 
Lend me two or three, will you*/’ 


LEWIS AKUNJ)EL. 


423 


As he mentioired his companion’s name, the beg< 2 :ar fixed his 
piercing eye on the features ot the person addressed, scanning them 
eagerly, as though he sought to fix them indelibly in his memory, 
iicturning his glance with a liaughty stare, his lordship carelessly 
filing him a couple ot Zioanzigers, and passed on. The beggar 
watched his retreating figure till it was no longer visible, then turn 
ing quickly, hobbled with his crutches out of the square, continuing 
thesaixe method of progression till he reached the nearest canal, 
when, looking round to assure himselt that he was not observed, 
he coofiy pitched his supporters into the water, removed the patch 
from his eye, winch by no means seeme'l to require such a protec- 
tion, walked briskly till he reached a spot where a small skiff was 
moored, springing into which, he commenced rosring vigorously, 
and was soon hidden from sight by a bend of the canal. 

When Lewis returned to his lodgings, the following note awaited 
him: 

“ My search is ended. 1 have found my sister in time to see her 
— die! Her seducer, heartless in his villainy, brought his victim to 
a foreign land, kept her in luxury till his fancy wearied of her, and 
then left her — to starve. My curse has little power, or it w’ould 
have withered him long ago; but may the curse ot that God who 
made him and her, cleave to him until - 1 meet him. Sir, 1 know 
not how to thank you. She has told me how you warned her, how 
you explained to her his real character. She was infatuated, but it 
is not for me to judge her. We seem a doomed race, fatal alike to 
ourselves, to those we love, and to those we hate. Oh, that she could 
live! She is soft and gentle, and, ay, though a scoundrel has de- 
based her, still 1 say it, she is good and pure, and she would have 
calmed my angry spirit; she would have taught me to love some- 
thing human; but it was not to be. Each hour that 1 sit by her I 
expect to be her last. She sends you her blessing; may God’s go 
with it. Miles H ” 

Lewis could not peruse this letter without deep emotion. In the 
just, though, alas! ill governed indignation which gave a rude elo- 
quence even to the expression of this poor youth’s outraged feeling, 
he traced a likeness to his former self. “ Heartless in his villainy, 
he kept her in luxury till bis fancy wearied of her, and then left 
her to starve!” This was the man Annie Grant loved, and was 
about to marry! Oh, how his heart bled for her. He pictured to 
himselt her liiiure life; how she would gradually, by alow and 
painful steps, discover her husband's true character; each advance 
in knowdedge a new and separate misfortune, until love should be- 
come indifference, and indifference end in hatred. Even yet he 
might prevent it. His London ager.t had forwarded to him that 
morning an English newspaper, containing an unmistakable allu- 
sion to the events ot the Derby day, and openly declaring Lord 
Bellefield a defaidter. This sliown to General Grant, and his tale 
ot Hardy’s daughter verified by the evidence now in his possession, 
the old soldier w^ould sooner see his daughter lying dead at his feet, 
than sanction her union with a man devoid alike of honor and of 
principle. But then came m pride. Hod he known that Annie 


424 


LEWIS ARUXDEL. 

lovGfi him. or liad General Grant never mistrusted him, Lewis 
would have come forward without a moment s hesitation; but Ids 
motives had been once doubted, his allections betrayed, and his 
pride could neither lorsjel nor forgive it. Ilesides, Tjord J>ellefield 
would attribute his interfeience to a feeling of petty malice; sueli 
was not tlie revenge for wldcli, despite his principles and his reason, 
his soul still thirsted. So pride gained the day, though, tyrant-like, 
in the very midst of his triumph, be made his victim miserable. 

Unable "to apply his mind to anything, he strolled out, trusting 
the evening air would allay the fever of his blood; after wander 
ing about restlessly for some time, he remembered that he had eaten 
nothing tor many hours, and turning into the nearest casino he 
called for wine and biscuits. Having finished his frugal repast, he 
was about to leave the house, when three persons entered, and cross- 
ing through the refreshment-room, passed into a salon which lie 
knew to be devoted to play. One of the three, a short, insignificant- 
looking man, was a stranger to him; but the two others he recog- 
nized Tnstautly — they were Walter and Lord Bellefield. A sudden 
impulse prompted him to follow them. At that time in fhe evening 
the salon was certain to be pretty well filled, and Lewis trusted to 
avoid observation by mixing with the crowd, relying on the altera- 
tion in his appearance to escape recognition, even if he were per- 
ceived either by Walter or Lord Bellefield. Accordingly, w^alting 
his opportunity, he joined a group of Italians, wlio, eagerly talking 
over the attempt upon the life of Colonel Marinovich (wiiicli had 
been frustrated by liis escaping on board the corvette which guarded 
the harboi), scarcely perceived this addition to their party. Enter- 
ing willi them, an<i still keeping in the background, he took up a 
position whence he could observe the proceedings of those for both 
of whom he felt an interest eoua'ily deep, though so utterly distinct 
in character. 

Lord Bellefield, who appeared unusually listless and indiHerent, 
lonneed up to the table, and staked a few napoleons on the chances 
of the game; then drawing forward a chair, he seated himself, and 
continued carelessly to watch the proceedings of the other players. 
But despite the presence of the man he hated. Lewis’s attention soon 
became wholly absorbed in oliserving Walter. From his eiitiie 
conduct, it w’as evident that this was by no means his first visit to 
the salon; on the conirary, it was only too plain that a taste for 
gambling had been implatded in ^he poor boy’s feeble yet obstinate 
mind. I'hat he clearly understood the nature of the game, Lewis 
could not believe, hut that he had acquired sulRcient insiglit into 
the rules to enable h:m to adhere to them, and that he was keenly 
alive to the results of the deal, or the throw, elated when he won, 
and depressed when lie lost, was most certain. 

The third person of the party, whom l^ewis rightly conjectured 
to he his successor in the ollice of tutor, did not play liimself, but 
appeared to take great interest in Walter’s game, looking over his 
cards and advising liiin what to do. ijewis also noticed, that when- 
ever Waller won, he nlvvu3^s received gold, hut that his losses vveix* 
paid in paper inoney, and the truth immediately occurred to him. 
viz., that, child-like, the poor boy only attached value to the glit- 
tering coin, and that the worth of the bank-notes had been com- 


LEWIS AKUNLEL. 


pl(;tcly misrepresented to tiim, so that he believed himself winning!:, 
when, in fact, he was losing considerable sums; moreover, from 
certain 'glances which passed between Mr. Spooner and the pro- 
prietor ot the salon, who held the bank, Jjewis became convinced 
that some secret understanding existed, by which I he tutor shared 
in the profits. 

That Lord Bellefield was entirely ignorant ot that which was 
passintr before his eyes, Lewis could not conceive, while at the same 
time the trifling nature of the stakes rendered it most unlikely that 
he couid have any personal interest in the affair. The probability, 
therefore, was that he saw what was going on, but felt totally in- 
different as to the matter. This view was confirmed wdien, as 
Walter grew more excited, began playing higher, and at last staked 
ten napoleons upon one cast, Mr. Spoomr approached Loid Belle- 
field and whispered something in his ear, to which his friend re- 
plied, carelessly: “Oh, let him have his fling while he’s in the 
humor.” Then, in a lower tone, he added; '' Vm not hlincl, but 
the money is, 1 dare say, of more use in your pocket than in his, so 
you’ll be the greater fool of the two it you attempt to prevent him.” 

Spooner again appeared to urge some difliculty, to which Lord 
Bellefield rejoined with a sneering hiugh : “ Yes, it suits you charm- 
ingly to assume the role of the innocent! Can’t on get him to sign 
another bond payable when he comes of age? Tortoui will no more 
refuse to cat;h it than he did on a former occasion.” Then smiling 
again, he added: “ 1 am not blind, mon ami, but 'tis no concern ot 
mine; 1 am not the lout’s guardian. Heaven be thanked!” Al- 
though from the position in which he stood Lewis only caught a 
word or two here and there ot this conversation, yet his quick ap- 
prehension supplied the blanks with sufficient correctness, and the 
whole villainy of the thing burst upon him. Here was a man en- 
gaged to educate and watch over the poor, feeble-minded being be- 
fore him. using the power thus intrusted to him, to lead him to 
evil, and availing himself of the imbecility he was bound to protect, 
to swindle his helpless charge— while Lord Bellefield, whose duty 
it was to denounce such practices to General Grant the instant he 
suspected them, had evidently not only no intention of doirg so, 
but sat coolly looking on, smiling ^vith a fieuil-like satisfaction at 
each fresh development of human wickedness. 

As Lewis watched Walter’s flushed cheek, eager e3^es, and hands 
which tiembled as they were stretched out to receive the gold which 
this time he had been allowed to win; as he marked the lines which 
excitement, and the permitted indulgence of a capricious, obstinate 
temper had traced upon his smooth brow, and round the comers ot 
his mouth, all his old affection for the poor boy lushed back upon 
him, and his just anger grew to such a pitch that he could scarcely 
repress it. At this moment a fresh deal had begun. 

“1 will win more,” exclaimed Waller, eagerly, “Mr. Spooner, 
tell him 1 want to double my stake.” 

“But that has been done already,” was the reply, “the dealer 
has doubled every one’s stake this time.” 

“Then 1 will double tnat,” returned Walter, carried away by 
the excitement of the game; “ tell him so, 1 say.” 

Spooner appeared for a moment undeciiled. 


426 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


The stake thus quadrupled, amounted to forty napoleons, and 
alarmed at its magnitude, he glanced in irresolution to^vard Lord 
Bellefield. A look of undisguised contempt for his pusillanimity 
was the only reply his lordship vouchsafed, goaded on by which, 
Spooner returned to comply v.ilh his pupil’s direction. 

But Lewis could bear it no longer. Regardless of consequences, 
he strode across the room, and laid his hand upon Walter’s shoulder, 
saying, as he did so. in a gentle though determined vo’ce: “ Waiter, 
you must not play for such high stakes.” 

With a cry of mingled joy and surprise, Walter sprung from his 
seat, gazed earnestly at Lewis’s features, then exclaiming: ” Oh, 
you have come back at last!” threw himself upon his friend’s breast 
in a flood of tears. Much afi:ected, Lewis returned his embrace, 
and leading him carefully to a seal, waited till he should recover 
from his surprise and emotion. In the meantime, the game had 
come to a standstill, the by-standers, consisting chiefly of foreigners, 
being as much chaimed by such a scene as an Englishman would 
have been annoyed at it. The moment quiet w^as in some degree 
restored, the proprietor, mindful of his own interest, resumed his 
deal, inquiring with a g ance at Spooner what sum his young friend 
had staked. Spooner paused, but Lord Bellefield who had risen and 
with lowering brow approached the scene of action, prompted him, 
and he replied: “ Forty napoleons.” 

Lewis’s eye flashed. ‘‘It is at your peril you do this,” he said. 
” My first act on quitting this place shall be to inform General 
Grant ot the manner in which you betray the trust he has reposed 
in you.” 

Spooner turned pale; but, relying on Lord Bellefield’s support, 
managed to stammer out: “ And pray, sir, who the deuce may you 
be?” 

“ 1 will tell you, and this worshipful company also,” exclaimed 
Lord Bellefieldf, stepping forw^ard. “ This fellow is, or rather was, 
a menial in General Grant’s household, discarded tor insolent be- 
havior, and as such, unfit for the society of gentlemen, into which 
he has now ventured to intrude himself, and from which 1, for one, 
vote he be ignominously expelled.” 

This speech caused, as might be expected, a sensation throughout 
the room, and the by-standers congregated round Lewis and Lord 
Bellefield, glancing from one to the other, to discover from their 
bearing and appearance which was the true man and which the 
false. Up to this moment Lewis had been wrapped in a large 
Spanish cloak: he now allowed it to glide from his shoulders, as, 
advancing a step, he boldly confronted his adversary. 

‘‘ Your lordship has been pleased to speak explicitly,” he said. 
” Were 1 inclined to follow your example, 1 might, with some 
shadow of truth, denounce you as a ruined blackleg, and an out- 
lawed defaulter; but 1 prefer simply declaring that m the statement 
you have just made, you have maliciously and unequivocally — 
lied!” 

As he spoke he raised his head proudly, and folding his arms 
across his breast, waited the effect of his words. He was not kept 
long in suspense. However numerous might be Lord Bellefield's 
faults, a waat of personal courage was not one of them. As Lewis 


LEWIS ARUKLEL 


427 


referred to the cause of liis ignominious exile his face grew pale 
with rage, hut when he gave him the lie, his fury became uncon- 
trollable. Rpringing forward with a leap like that of a maddened 
tiger, he struck Lewis a violent blow on the cheek, which, firmly 
as his feet were planted, staggered him, exclaiming, as he did so: 

“Take that, beggar!” Instead of rushing on his adversary, as 
those among tlie spectators who knew him (and there were several 
who did so) expected, Lewis, recovering himself, stood for an instant 
regarding Lord Belletield with a smile of triumph, though to those 
Who reniarked him closely thei'e was an expression in his eyes 
which, in spite of themselves, caused them to shudder, while, 
strange to say, he was drawing k ^oWaCiicldte kid glove on his right 
hand. Having done so, he advanced a step, saying, in a stern, deep 
voice: 

“ Your lordship, is too generous— the beggar returns your alms- 
giving — thus!” 

As he spoke there was a sudden movement in the crowd — a fright- 
ful blow was struck, and Lord Belletield lay insensible on the 
ground, the blood flowing from a cut ou his forehead, while over 
him stood Lewis, bis mouth set and bis eyes burning with the fire 
of hatred. Several of the by-standers sprung forward to assist the 
fallen mnn, but Lewis sternly motioned them back. 

“ Wait,” he said. His voice sounded deep and hollow, and there 
was something in the expression of his face which quelled the 
stoutest heart among ihose who stood around him. Drawing the 
glove troni the hand which had struck the blow, he dipped it in the 
blood that still trickled from the forehead of the fallen man, mutter- 
ing to himself as he did so: 

“ That then has come to pass— is the rest to follow?'* He next 
examined the countenance of his prostrate foe. “ He is merely 
stunned,” lie said. “Raise him, and bring water to bathe his 
temples.*’ As he spoke, he assisted those who stepped forward to 
lift the injured man and place him on a chair. Having done so, 
he left him to ihe care of the by-standers, and again folding his 
arms, stood coolly awaiting the issue. 

The event justified his predictions; on the first application of the 
cold water, Lord Bellefield revived, and in less time than could 
have been expected, the bleeding, which was very slight, was ar- 
rested. As soon as he bad recovered sufliciently to speak be said, 
addressing a young Italian of rank with whom he was acquainted, 
and who had been bathing his temples with the cold water: 

“ Rastelli, you may inform that scoundrel that he has succeeded ; 
rather than allow him to escape with impunity, 1 will undergo the 
degradation of meeting him.** He spok3 in a low, faint voice, but 
the exprrssion with which he glanced toward Lewis, as he pro- 
nounced the word “ scoundrel ’* was one of undying hatred. 

“ If your lordship intended to apply that observation to the Sig- 
nor Luigi, I shall have the felicity to explain that your excellency 
lahoTs under a mistake; that gentleman is the son of a gallant 
officer, with whom 1 have hart the honor to serve in more than one 
campaign. It is no condescension in any one under the rank of a 
royal prince to meet the son of the brave Captain Arundel.” 

The speaker was an old general officer in the Austrian service, 


428 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 

niio posscsspcl a European reputation, and whose dictum on all 
points of honor was conclusive. Lord Hellefield bit his under-lip in 
nnmT and rexation, cursiuir his own hastiness wliich had elicited 
lids vindication ot his enemy. Perceiving, however, that he should 
only place himselt still more completely in (he wrong by any attempt 
to impugn the old Austrian’s statement, he merely bowed haugiitily 
in reply, then desiring to be shown into a private room, he took 
Ibistelli’s arm, and quitted the salon. 

Lewis stood gazing after his late opponent with a dark and 
troubled countenance. It was not remorse that he experienced, for 
were the deed to have been done over again, lie would not have 
shrunk from its performance, and 3^et the feeling which engrossed 
liim partaok ot a remorseful character -it seemed to him that he 
liad now lost all power ot free will — he had taken the first step, 
and THE rest must follow; there was no longer auy possibility of 
turning back. Like one walking in his sleep, he permitted himself 
to be led into another room— be beard, as in a dream, Rastelli enter, 
ami make arrangements with a young Austrian officer who had 
volunteered to act as his second, for his meeting Jjord Bellelield at 
daybreak. As the person challenged, he had the choice of weapons, 
but he waiverl his right, and allowed h:s opponent to select pistols. 
Ehrenburg (his second) whispered to him that Lord Bellefield was 
reported to be a dead shot, but an indifl;erent swordsman. 

“ The more reason to allow him to choose pistols,^’ was Lewis’s 
careless reply. 

Elirenburg still urged the madness of throwing away a cliance. 
“ It will be no boy’s play,” he said; “ mark my words, Luigi, this 
duel will be one for life or death.’' 

“ Do you think 1 do not Know it?” returned Lewis, sternly. 
” Ay, as well as if 1 now saw him lying dead before my feet,” and 
as he spoke, an involuntary shudder passed through his powerful 
fr:ime. 

‘‘ jNlay not another contingency be possible, huon' amico — espe- 
cially it you allow liim to secure the advantage of pistols?” suggested 
Elirenburg. 

‘‘ Would to heaven it migiit so occur,” was Lewis's eager reply. 
” 1 hope no better fate than to die by his band, believe me: but it 
will not be srv— 1 know — i teel it! ElirenDiirg, that man has .«tood 
like some evil spirit across my path; time atter time has he heaped 
insult upon me: once, coward-like, the assassin sought my life: but 
till to-night i have never opposed him. Why? Because it is written 
liere ” (and he touched his forehead), ‘‘ that when the final struggle 
shall come, my destiny is stronger than his, and he must perish. 
Yon may smile and deem my words the mere ravings of superstition, 
blit you will see, if we meet to-morrow morning, Bellefield will 
never leave the ground alive, anrl 1 shall quit it with the hiand ot 
Cain upon my brow.” 

He .spoke so gravely and with such an evident belief in the reality 
of liis convictions, that for a mcment Ebi’enburg himselt felt ini 
pressed. But a duel was no very uncommon event with the young 
Austrian; ho bad been principal on tw'o occasions, win n no serious 
result had folhiwed, and second on lialf a dozen more; besides, he 
was essentially a practical man. So he merely shrugged his 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 429 

shoulders, hinted that Lewis’s nerves mifrht be excited, which Tvould 
produce these little fancies, advised him to take a cup of collee, and 
tlien repair to the shooting gallery and practice steadily tor ui» hour 
or so to get his hand in, pnmiised to be with liini in good time on 
the following morning, irujuircd whether he could be of any 
fuither avssistance. and then, strolling l)ack to the. gaming-table, 
relieved J^ewis of his presence. 

To gain his lodgings, and lock himself into his studio, was 
scarcely the woik ot five minutes. Then, flinging himself upon 
the first seat that came in Ids way, he gave himself up to bitter 
thf)Uirhts. Two years ago he had fled his country, had quitted all 
who were deal to him. because his flery passions were beyond Ids 
control— because he bad loved t( o deeply and hated too bitterly. 
He had plunged into a life of wild adventure, to dissipate his feel- 
ings. He had schooled his heart to solitude, he had devoted all his 
energies to the acquirement of an art, nay, lie had devoted the first 
efforts ot the skill he had thus gained to embody a visible repre- 
sentation of the danger of ill-bestowed love and the curse of gratified 
revenge, and this was the result! 

He remaiued tor a few minutes witli his head resting on his hand, 
apparently stunned by his conflicting feelings. Then, rousing him- 
self by an effort, he heaved a deep sigh and drew out the glove. As 
liis eye fell upon the stain of blood, he shuddered, and hastily put 
ting it from him, began pacing up and down the apartment. An 
antique lamp hung by a chain from the ceiling, throvving its light 
strongly on Ihs two pictures from the “Giaour.” Involuntarily, 
Lewis paused before them, and remained gazing from one to the 
other with an expression of remorse and horror. “ Am 1 indeed 
about to realize these creations of my gloomy fancy I” he murmured; 
“ shall 1 become that human tiger, that stony, soulless image of 
impenitent despair? Revenge, how 1 have thirsted for it, how, 
when writhing under that man’s insults, 1 have pictured to niyselr 
the day of reckoning, and deemed life itself would be a cheap sacri- 
fice for one hour ot unlimited vengeance, and now, w^hen this 
coveted boon lies within rny grasp, 1 see it in its true light, and own 
this wishe I tor blessing to he a dark, consuming curse. Seen 
through the ilistorted medium ot outraged feeling, retribution ap- 
pears an act of justice. The demon wore an angel’s lonn. Hut, 
viewed in its true aspect, the sentiment is that which leads to mur- 
der, and the deed, with its sickening details, revolting butchery. 
Vet seeing this clearly, knowing to w'hat it will lead, I must on; 

I owe Mm satisfaction. Satisfaction!” lie smiled at the mocking 
term. “ Ves,” he resumed, “ 1 7nust go on even if 1 wished to turn 
back. If 1 could forego my revenge, and forgive him, it is now loo 
late. Well, be it so; ’tis weakness to repine at the inevitable. I 
will meet my fate, be it wdiat it may, and tor him he has brought 
the punishment upon his own head, and must abide the issue!” He 
resumed his walk up and down the apartment; then a new idea 
struck him. “ What a strange expressiou lier features w'ore vvlicn 
she ventured to address me,” he laid, “ and in the crowd, she did 
not shrink from me, hut trusted herself to me with a gentle, child- 
like confidence.” He paused, pressed his baud to his forehead, then 
exclaimed: “Oh, God, if 1 have wronged her, if ”— and here his 


4:30 


LEWIS AllUI^BEL. 

voice Slink almost to a whisper — “ if. Heaven help me, she should 
love me after all!” Completely overwrought fcy these conflicting 
emotions Jjcwis sunk into a chair, and burying his face in his l)ands\ 
straggled iu vain tor composure, a deep drawn, choking sob from 
time r<) time attesting his mental agony. How long he remained in 
this position he never knew\ It might have been minutes, lor he 
took no note ot things external; it might have tieen hours, for a 
life time of heartfelt desolation appeared crowded into that (tark 
reveiie. He was aroused at length by a tap at the door, which, as 
at first he could scarcely collect his ideas sufficiently to attend to 
such suhlunary matters, soon grew into a loud and impatient knock- 
ing with the handle ot a stick or nmhi'ella. Imagining it to be one 
of" his artist friends, come probably to bring him intormation in 
regard to the late disturbances, he replied in Italian, that he was 
particularly engaged, and could not see any one. ” Polite and en- 
couraging, certainly,” muttered a deep-toned voice, at t ie first 
sound ot which Lewis sprung from his seat, and listened with an 
eager, 5^et halt incredulous expression of countenance. “ A thou- 
sand and one pardons, signor,” continued the person on the out- 
side, speaking in Italian, with a peenharhy of accent winch proved 
him to be unaccustomed to pronounce the language, or probably 
even to hear it spoken; ‘‘ but you really must condescend to see me, 
even if Diabolus liimself is supping with you, and there is only 
maccaroni enough for two.” 

Without a moment’s hesitation. Lewis flung open the door, and 
there in propria persona stood Richard Frere and the cotton um- 
brella! 

” Frere, dear old fellow! is it, can it indeed be you?” exclaimed 
Lewis, joyfully, forgetting for the moment everything in the siir- 
piise ot welcoming such an unexpected visitant. 

‘‘ Yes, it’s me,” returned Frere, squeezing and shaking his 
friend's hand, as if he had a design of reducing it to a jelly 
” Richard’s himself, and no mistake. Lewis isn’t hiimeW, tliougii, 
it seems, but Signor Luigi, forsooth. I bad hard work to find you, 
I can tell you. But good gracious! what has happened to tli(‘ man?” 
lie exclaimed, uatching sight of Lewis’s bearded face and pale, hag- 
gard features; ” why, he has turned into somebmly else h(ic\ily as 
well as in name. You look just like one ot those horrid Italian fel- 
lows, with the proper tragic expression ot countenance which they 
get up by way of advertising that they are ready and willing to cut 
throats at halt a crown a windpipe, countiy onkrs punctually exe- 
cuted, and the business performed in a neat and tradesman-like 
manner; but tell me seriously, you’re not ill?” 

” Not in body nor usually in mind either,” was the reply; ‘ but 
to day events have occurred which have thoroughly unmanned me, 
still 1 shall ‘ win through it ’ somelmw; and now tell me of your- 
self, of Rose, of my mother — they are well?” 

‘‘ A good deal better than 5^011 seem to be,” growled Frere, who, 
during this speech, had been attentively observing his friend’s f(at- 
ures; however. I’ll soon satisf}’’ your curiosity, and then you slndl 
satisfy mine,” he added, in an undertone, and removing a wondci’- 
ful species or traveling-cap, he followed Lewis, who led the way to 
his inner apartment, and then listened eagerly to Frere’s account of 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


431 


the vaiious events which had taken place since he had quitted liis 
native land. Rose, by Frere’s especial desire, had in writing lo her 
brother, hitheilo foreborne to allude lo her engagement— the worthy 
bear, with a characteiistic mixture of deep-seated humility and 
surface vanity, fearing that Lewis might not think him a fitting 
match for his sister, and, therefore, feeling anxious that the matter 
should be disclosed to him in the wisest and most judicious manner 
possible, i. e., by himself mxa wee. Thus, after having spoken of 
various less important matters, Frere was gradually working his 
way toward the interesting disclosure with a degree of nervous 
diffidence quite unusual to him, when Lewis, w’hose attention began 
to flag, brought him to the point by exclaiming: “ And about Jiose, 
wffiat is she doing? she tells me in her letters she still writes tor some 
magazine; but is she looking well? does she seem happy? though 1 
supi)ose,” he continued, trying to hide his state of mmd, by tailing 
in with his Iriend’s jesting mode of speech, “ these are minor par- 
ticulars, into wdiicti it never occurs to your wisdom lo inquire. 1 
know your old habit of practically ignoring the existence of women, 
as a sex, regarding them as a race of unscientifle nonentities fitted 
only ‘ to suckle fools and chronicle small beer.’ ” 

Frere for a moment looked rather disconcerted. Then, veiling 
hivS discomfiture under an afleelation of rough indifference, he re- 
plied. “ 1 can tell you one ‘ minor particular,' as you call it, and 
that is the tact of the young lady in question being engaged to be 
married.” 

“Nonsense!” exclaimed’ Lewis, starting; “you are probably 
joking,” he continued, seriously; “ but you know' not— how should 
you?— the mood of mind in which you find me; but tell mein a 
word, is there any earnest in what you have said? ' 

“ In a word,” muttered Frere, “ hum! concise and cpigramniat- 
ical that! but I’ll try to accommodate you. so here goes by way of 
answer. Yes!” 

“ And she lias never even hinted at such a fact in her letters,” 
exclaimed Lewis; “ out of sight, out of mind indeed. 1 may have — 
Heaven help me! — 1 haw neglected my trust, in my sel (-engross- 
ment; but 1 did not think Rose would have been the person thus tc 
visit my' sins upon my head; who is the man?” he continued, 
sternly. In the whole course of his existence Frei’C had never felt 
more uncomfortable; all his old diffidence and humility ruslnd 
upon him, and for the moment he felt as if he had been suadcnlv 
detected in an act of petty larceny; however, his sturdiness of nat- 
ure, and common sense, came to his rescue, and lie replied: 

*' It is no fault of Rose’s, for I made it an especial point that she 
should not tell you of her engagement by letter.” 

“ Yo7i did, and w-herefore?” inquired Lewis, in surprise. 

“ Because i chose to tell you myself,” returned Frere. “Tour 
sister is not an angel, for augers live in Heaven and not on earth, 
but she is the most lovable, the most pure-minded, decidedly' the 
sw'eetest- looking woman (though that does not so much signify) in 
tins w^orld, and 1 should have added, the most sensible, only that. 
sl»e has, in her tenderness uf heart, seen fit lo promise to marry a 
rough, uncouih animal like me. Lewis, old feilow,” he continued, 
in a lalteriug voice, “ 1 know better thau you can do, how unw or- 


432 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


lliy 1 am of such a blessing, but it loving her better than my own 
life gives me any title to possess her, fleaveu knows that 1 do so/' 

When Frere reached that point in his peroration at which he men- 
tioned Kose’s promise to marry him, his auditor siarterf, and raising 
liis eyes, miii mured an ejaculation of fervent thankfulness. As he 
couciuded, Lewis clasped his hand eagerly in his own, saying: “ My 
dear old Frere, you know not how happy you have made me; one 
great weight whiv.h was crushing my soul to the dust ere you ap- 
peared, is r( moved by your words. Of all men living you aie the 
one 1 would have selected for my dearest Rose's husband; and now 
if 1— that is to say, wdiatever befalls me, she will be happy.” 

” Then you are nut disappointed?” rejoined PTere, greatly re- 
lieved; ‘‘ you know you used at one time to be just a very little bit 
ambitious, and 1 fancied you might have been cherishing some 
splendid scheme tor marrying Rose to a auli^i— she’s good enough 
for the best of ’em, even if dukes w'ere what they shonhl be. instead 
of what they are too many of ’em Well, I’m very glad; but now 
about yourself. ‘If anything befalls you,’ you say; pray what is 
likely to befall you more than other people, and wdiat do 3^11 mean 
by being crushed b}^ a weight, and by looking so melodiamaticaliy 
miserable?” 

Lewis heaved a deep sigh, and then replied : ” You speak jestingly ; 
but there are many melodramas less strange than my wayw’aitl 
fortune. Such as it is, how^ever, 1 have provoked and will go 
through wuth it. Frere, you love Rose for her own sake, be kind 
to and forbearing with my mother tor mine. She has man}^ faults, 
a gidd}" head, an impulsive disposilion (than which there can be no 
greater temptaUon), but a warm heart, and — 1 feel 1 have never 
done a son’s duty by her P'rere, you will lake care of her?” 

The events of the day and evening had w’ell-nigh exhausled even 
Lewis’s untiring energy, and the sight of Frere arriving so unex- 
pectedly, had brought back to him so many home memories, recol- 
lections of earlier days ere with the strength and freedom df man- 
hood had come its trials and its sins, that as he tliought of these ohl 
associations, and remembered kindnesses slighted, afleclion ca^t 
awa}^ duties neglected, tor tlie sake of that one master-passion, he 
forgot tor the lime the wrongs he usually felt so keenly, and remorse 
for his selfish neglect overwhelmed him and caused his voice to 
fiilter, and his eyes to grow ilim with tlie mist of unshed tears. 
P'rere perceived his emotion, and waited till it had in a degree sub- 
sided. Then, going up to him, he laid hislnmdon his shoulder, 
caressingly saying; ” Come, Lewis, we have knowm c.ich other 
from boyhood, we nave long been brothers in aff etion, and are soon 
about 10 become so in name, associated by a still nearer tie. We 
never used to have secrets from each otlmr, and should not do so 
now. 1 have learned from Rose the cause you have had for sorrow, 
and for two years have suffered you to try your own melhod of 
cure, without altcrnpiing to interfere with you, but I now see that 
the experiment has failed, and that you are miseralie — is it not so?” 

Lewis bowed his head in token of asseui; he lonld not trust him- 
self to speak. 

” We are not placed in this w'orld to be miserable,” continued 
Frere; ‘‘ true, this lift is a stale of trial, aud it would noi be so it 


LEWIS AllUNDEL. 


433 


we had not many evils, Icruptations, and sorrows to endure, hut 
by God’s help, the evils may be borne, the temptations overcome, ;.nd 
the sorrow turned to joy it we do not oppose our wdl to His; but 
it we do sin lietli at the dof>r, we Ua^ue ouix'lves with the enemy 
ot mankind, and misery must come of it. Do not misunderstand 
me,” he added, kindly, ” 1 do not seek to blame you, 1 can have no 
pleasure in so doing, but on the contrary, deepest pain; still, it is 
evident your mind is diseased, and it in probing the wound to dis- 
cover the nature of the evil, 1 hurl you, you must paraon me tor 
the sake of the object 1 have in view. . P>ui 1 am talking at random, 
tor want ot a more clear insight into the cause ot your present diffi- 
culty. Come, be fiank and open with me; let us face the evil 
boldly, and between us, devise some means ot overcoming it ” 

” VV'hat brought you here?” exclaimed Lewis, suddenly raising 
his head and fixing his piercing eyes full upon his triend’s counte- 
nance. 

Freie smiled a melancholy smile. “ Hot-headed, petulant and 
jealous ot inlerterence y^et!” he said, ” i\Iy poor Lewis, i did not 
come to catechise you — altairs ot quite another nature brought me 
here. 1 am trying to carry out an arrangement between my Uncle 
Ashford and your ci demnt foe. Lord Belief] eld.” As he men- 
tioned Lord Belletield’s name, Lewis shuddered and his eyes again 
sought the ground. ” And now that 1 have cleared up this alarm- 
ing doubt,” resumed Frere, ‘‘tell me what ails you, for that you 
are miserable, and thai 1 mean to know wherefore, and do my best 
to render you otlierwise, are two self-evident facts.” 

“ 'Tis useless,” returned Lewis, in a low voice, “ the die is cast, 
and neither you nor any one else can help me. Would to Heaven 
you had come a day sooner and taken me away from this accursed 
place; as it is, my own mad passion has hurried me on, and my fate 
is fixed. Now^” he continued, glancing at the clock which stood at 
a quarter to twelve, ” 1 must ask you to leave me— we may meet 
to-morrow — or — if anything should prevent it — and if— if 1 have 
not an opportunity of telling you all you seek to know, iny papers 
—that is, 1 will leave you a letter explaining everything— good- 
night.” Scarcely able to contiol his voice, in this which Lewis 
fell might too probably be a last farewell, he hurried through the 
speech m a strange, almost incoherent manner. 

Frere regarded him fixedly. ” Unless you condescend to explain 
to mo what you purpose doing wu’thin the next twenty-four hours,” 
he said, ‘‘I’ll not leave you till that time has expired. 1 tell you 
what it is, Lewis, 1 have not lived three-and- thirty years in the 
world without having learned to read men’s faces, and 1 read in 
yours that you are standing on the verge of some great folly, mad- 
ness, or — crime — and now, what is it?” 

Lewis paused for a moment in deep thought, and then said 
calmly: ” !5it down. Frere, you are an Englishman and a man of 
highly honorable feeling; moreover, you are my oldest, my most 
cherished tricnd. 1 am, as you say, maddened by circumstances, 
and on the verge ot a great crime. tSit down, 1 will tell you all, 
and you shall judge between God and man, and me.” 

Calmly, Qlcaily, truthfully, in the deep silence of night, did 


434 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


Lewis recount to his friend the strange passages with wliich the 
reader is alread}" acquainted; he related the simple tacts, whether 
they told for or against him, just as they occurred, \\ ithout enter- 
ing into unnecessary detail, he left nothing important untold, till 
Frere had conceived a clear idea of Lewis’s whole career from the 
hour lie entered Broadhurst, to the moment in which he was speak- 
ing. 

“ The upshot of all this is,” observed Lewis, in conclusion, ” that 
1 am wear}’ ot life; littleness, brutality and oppression in maa. 
weakness and treachery in woman, and the tyranny of passion in 
one’s self, render this world an incipient hell. To-morrow must 
end it one way or the other; either he will shoot me, or 1 shall 
shoot him; the latter contingency 1 shall not long survive; such 
remorse as I should feel would be unendurable. To save myself 
from the guilt of suicide i shall volunteer into some fighting regi- 
ment engaged in these civil broils, Tyrian or Trojan, Austrian or 
Venetian, 1 care little; my sympathies side with one, ni}^ associa- 
tions with the other, and with either 1 may obtain the only prize I 
covet — a soldier’s death.” 

” Now listen to me, Lewis,” returned Frere, gravely. ” 1 once 
at your own request promised you, that while we "both lived I would 
Tiever give you up, but would stand between you and your fiery passions, 
and 1 thank God, who in llis mercy has sent me here at this piurtic- 
ular moment to enable me to fulfill my engagement. Ton have 
suffered and are suffering deeply, and from my heart 1 pity you; 
but seeing, as 1 do only too clearly, the cause ot all this misery, it 
would be no kindness in me to omit to point it out to you. Your 
two leading faults ot character, pride and an overwhelming degree 
of self-confidence, are at the bottom of it all. Pride made l^ord 
Bellefield your enemy — when he offered money for the dog, he 
never intended to insult you; your proud answer irritated his pride, 
and from that time forth he sought to injure you. Evil produced 
evil, dislike grew to hatred, hatred begat revenge, revenge cher- 
ished, only required opportunity to become realized into assault and 
murder. "That opportunity has now arrived, you have been guilty 
of the first, you contemplate the second. So much for pride. Now 
for self-confidence. You imagined nothing could tempt you to 
forget 3 ^our dependent position in General Grant’s family (a position 
which your pride led you falsely to consider a degradation) so far 
as to forfeit 3 ^oiir self-respect by loving Annie, so you permitted 
3 ^ourself to enjoy hei society till your affections were be^^ond 3 ’our 
own control-mistake number one; then self-confidence whispeud 
that it would be heroic to overcome this passion, so, instead of 
avoiding the danger, 3 'ou stayed to brave it till you had sacrificed 
your happiness if not hers also — mistakt number two; still untaugld 
by experience, in your own strength you endeavored to crush out 
the memory of the past; still thinking onl}’ of self, 3 'ou fled your 
country, recklessly severing ties and neglecting duties. Two years’ 
vain struggling have proved your boasted strength to be abject 
weakness, unable to save you fro'u becoming the slave of your evil 
passi'^ns, and 1 arrived here to find you contemplating the sin of — 
well, if 1 call it murder, you will deem that I exaggerate — so 1 will 
say the sin ot gambling in a lottery of manslaughter— with every 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


435 


di jnce against you.” Lewis again raised liis face to Frere's, as lie 
replied calmly, but in a cold, Jiard tone of voice: 

“ You have d escribed my miserable career hnrsbly indeed, but 
in the mam truly. YY)U profess yourself my fiiend- In making 
lids painful recapitulation, therefore, 1 piesume you to have some 
friendly object, wliat is it?” 

“ First to exhibit to you the disease, then to point out the remedy,” 
returned Frere. 

“And if you can do this,” exclaimed Lewis, ‘if, remembering 
what 1 am, you can sho\V me how I might have avoided my ernsrs 
in the past, how I may do aught to retrieve them in the future, I 
will indeed reckon you my trienfi— nay, 1 will bless your coining as 
that of an angel Sent from Heaven to aid a desperate, w^ell-nigh a 
despairing man,” 

” Pray what religion do you profess?” asked Frere, abruptly. 

Lewis started, but recovering himself, replied, coldly: ” The 
same as you do yourself.” 

” And do you believe in the truth of it?” 

“ Why ask such a question?” returned Lewis, with a slight degree 
of annoyance perceivable in his tone, ‘‘ whatever ma.y have be^n 
my faults, 1 am no infidel.” 

”1 will tell you why 1 ask,” replied Frere, “because, though 
you confess with your lips the truths of Christianity, in your life 
you have practically denied them.” 

Lewis made no answer, and Frere continued in an earnest impress- 
ive voice, his manner becoming every moment more animated as 
he grew excited with his subject. 

“ If, as you say you do not doubt, Christianity be true, it amounts 
to this. The God wlio made and governs this world lias been pleased 
to reveal to us His will — namely, that if we believe in Him and 
obey Him He will save us from eternal misery and bestow upon us 
eternal happiness; to enable us to fulltil the second condition — that 
of obedience— He has given us a code, not so much of laws as of 
principles of action, by which we may become a law to ourselves. 
In ordt*r to demonstrate how these abstract principles are applicable 
to the exigencies of our mundane career. He sent His son into the 
world, a man subject to like passions as ourselves, only ‘ without 
sin,’ hecmifie He was a consistent embodiment ot the doctrines He 
taught. Now, had you taken these precepts to which you accord 
an unpractical and therefore an equally senseless and useless belief, 
as the rule ot your actions, how diftereut a result would have fol- 
lowed: instead of provoking animosity by haughty looks and proud 
w'ords, you would have remembered that ‘ a soft answer turnelh 
away wratli;’ instead ot leturniun evil for evil you would have con- 
sidered the example of Him, who, ‘ when he was reviled, reviled 
not again,’ and called to mind tTis precepts. ‘ resist nut evil, do good 
to them that hate you, and pray for them which di spitefully use 
you and persecute you;’ instead of seeking to avenge your own 
quarrtd by deeds of violence, which (uitrage nature and bring their 
ovvn punishment even here, in the stings of conscience, you would 
have thought of His words, who hath said, ‘ Vengeance is Mine, 1 
will repay!’ and left your cause in His hands, instead of attempt- 
ing to do everything in your strength, and failing thus miserably, 


430 


LEWIS ARUNDEL 


yon wonlfl have Tccollccted that ‘ God’s strength is made perfect in 
oiir weakness,’ and prayed to Him for support and assistance. Even 
now, instead ot having recklessly di termined to expose yourself to 
the eliance of coinmitdng wliat yon own to be a crime ot such 
frightful magnitude, that the remorse it must entail on you would 
be unbearable, the (pn stion would be, not how at any sacrifice you 
must vindicate youi honor in the ej^es ot men. but ‘ liow then can i 
do this great wickedness, and sin against God?’ ” lie paused, then 
asked, abruptl}’^: “ Df> you admit all this?” 

Lewis’s features worked convulsively, as in a hollow, broken 
voice he replied: “ Yes, 1 do, God help me!” 

“ And He will help you,” returned Frere, ‘‘ if your repentance is 
indeed sincere, but that must be proved by acts, not words. Will 
you give up your revenge, and agree not to meet Lord Bellefield to- 
morrow?” 

‘‘ No, by Heaven!” exclaimed Lewis, fiercely, springing to Ins 
feet. ” The sole possession my father bequeathed to me, w’as his 
name and Ins spotless honor, and it shall never be said that be left 
them to one whom men had a right to call coward.” 

‘‘ And 3"et a coward you are,” returned Frere, sternly, ” not in 
the particular of brute courage, shared with you by the tiger and 
the wa)lf, but in the far higher attribine of moral courage, tlie mar- 
tyr spirit which enables the highest order of minds to’ endure the 
scorn of worldl}' men rather than offend God, and degrade them- 
selves by the commission of evil. 1 will ask one more question, and 
then 1 have done with you — 3"ou sa3’ you believe in a future and 
eternal life; are you fitted to enter upon that life to-morrow, tiiiough 
the dark portal of a sudden, vi:)lent death?” 

As Frere uttered these awful words, in a tone of the deepest sol 
enmity, Lewis wdio liad been impalientl3^ pacing the room, slopped 
short, as though arrested in his course by a Ibimder stroke. Plac- 
ing his band to his bri»w, he staggered as it about to f;dl, and Frere 
sprung up to suppiut him. Kecovering himself, he murmured. 

‘‘ 1 must be alone; in half an hour 3^11 shall know my decision.” 

Tnen opening the door he motioned to Frere to await him in the 
painting-room, and closing it after him, locked it. What passed in 
that half hour, how ])iostrale before the Great While Tin one the 
proud man w'rcslled with his agony, can be known bill to One, the 
Searcher of Hearts. When at the expiration ot the prescribed time 
the door w^as silently unclosed, and Frere entered, he found J.cwis, 
pale indeed, and trembling, but calm as a little child. 

‘ Bless you, dear old friend!” he said. ” 'rrutk and you lime 
conquered. 1 place m3^self in your hands— do with me as 3^011 will.” 


CHAPTER LX. 

snows now the lamp fared tuat the wolf had worried. 

Arout nine o’clock in the evetung, marked by the occurrence of 
the event.s narrated in the last chapter, General Grant was informed 
that a young man, who refused to give his name, requested five 
minutes’ private conversation wdlh him. Somewhat surpiised at 
this demand, the general followed the servant into an apartment 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


437 


used by Charles Leicester as a study, and desired the person migh 
be shown in, and in another moment a tall, swarthy younff felh.vv 
dressed in Ihe garb usually worn by the lower classes in Venice, 
made his appearance. As soon as the servant had quitted the room, 
the stranger presented a note to the general, saying: “ If yon will 
read, sir, you will perceive the otqect of rny visit, and learn the 
necessity which forces me to intrude upon you at such an untimely 
hour.” 

The note, which was written in a delicate but somewliat illegible 
female hand, ran as follows: 

“ A dying woman implores you, sir, to visit her, not for her own 
sake, for her hope rests in God and not in man, but tor the sake of 
one wlio must be dearest to you in the world — your daughter. The 
writer has information to impart to you, which may save you and 
her from years of deepest misery; the bearer of this note will con- 
duct you safely to one who again implores you by all you tiold 
sacred not to neglect this summons, or delay returning with the 
messenger lest your arrival should be too late. The writer pledges 
her word, the word of one about to enter upon eternity, that you 
shall return safely. 

“This is a very strange note, observed General Grant, suspi- 
ciously eying the young man wlio stood awaiting his decision. 
“ flow am 1 to know that this is not some cunningly devised scheme, 
dangerous to my life or liberty?’’ 

“ 1 swear to you that you may safely trust me,” replied the 
stranger, eagerly. “ Adopt what precautions you will, leave your 
money, or aught that is of value a: home, take pistols with you, and 
if you see any signs of treachery shof>t me through the head. 1 
co^ild tell you that which would render you as eager to accompany 
me as you now appear unwilling to do so, but 1 have promised to 
leave her to explain the affair as seems to her best — she is my sister, 
and dying. If you delay you will arrive too late.’’ 

“ You arc an Englishman, 1 presume?” inquired the general, still 
undecided. 

“1 am so,” was the reply, “and have served my country on 
board a man-of-war.” 

“ A sailor! what was your captain’s name, and what ship did you 
belong to?” demanded the general. 

“ The ‘ Pi’ometheus ’ — Captain Manvers,” was the concise reply. 

“ Were you in her during the year 18 — ?” continued his qms- 
tioner, and receiving a leply in the affirmative, added: “Where 
were you stationed then?” 

“ We accompanied a convoy of transports, taking the and 

foot to Madras, and then proceeded to China,” was the answer. 

Tlie general nodded approvingly. “ Quite true.” he said, “ Cap- 
tain Manvers is a friend of my own, and 1 know his vessel to have 
been ilun employed as you have stated. 1 will trust you; wait five 
minutes while 1 prepare to accompany .you.” 

Within tlie time he had mentioned General Grant returned, 
Tvrapped in a military cloak, beneath which he woie a belt support- 
ing a saber and a brace of pistols. 

“ If Z do not return in two hours give this note to Mr, Leicester,” 


438 


LKWIS ARUNDEL. 

he said to the servant, who attended them to the door. Then mo- 
tioning to the stranger to precede him, lie quitted the Palazzo Grass- 
ini. Leaving the square of St. Mark’s, they proceeded to the 
Itialto; crossing this, and passing the fruit and vegetable market 
beyond, they reached a spot where a gondola was waiting. ITav- 
ing stepped into it the general on a signal from his guide, seated 
himself near the stern, while the young sailor took an oar and as 
sisted his companion in propelling the light vessel. Having pro- 
ceeded some short distance in this manner, the rowers paused at a 
llight of steps. Here the stranger signified to General Giant tliat 
they musi disembark. Then resuming his office of guide he led the 
way along the banks of the canal, and through courts and narrow 
alleys, inhabited by the lower orders of Yenice, till he stopped be- 
fore a rude door. At this he tapped twice in a peculiar manner. An 
old crone appeared in obedience to his summons, and cautiously 
unclosing the door admitted them. Taking a lamp from her hand, 
the young man led the way up a steep flight of stairs, closely fol- 
lowal by his companion. 

“ Wait one minute.” he said, as they reached the top. Returning 
almost immediately, he continued in a low whisper: 

“ She is awake and perfectly collected, but appears sinking fast; 
she is anxious to see you without delay. Tread as lightly as possi- 
ble and follow me.” Advancing a few steps, he open^ed the door of 
a bedroom, and the general, stooping his heatl to avoid striking it 
against the lop of (he door way, entered. The apartment, though 
small, was clean, and more comfortably fitted up than from the ex- 
ternal appearance of the house he had been leil to expect. On a low 
truckle bed in one corner of the room, lay the form ot the dying 
girl. At a sign from her brother. General Grant approached, and 
seating himself on a chair by the bedside, waited till she should ad- 
dress iiim. For a few minutes she appeared quite unable to do so, 
and her visitor feared as he gazed on her emaciated form and sunken 
features, that she had indeed delayed her communication till the 
paralysis of coming death had sealed her lips, never again to unclose 
in this life. In his earlier days. General Grant had been fa/niliar 
with death in some of its most appalling shapes. He had seen men 
fall by his side, mutilated by ghastly saber wounds, to be trampled 
under the hoofs of maddened, plunging horses. He had stood im- 
movable when the deathly aitillery plowed up tlie ground around 
him, and mowed down whole ranks as the scythe of the reaper pros- 
trates tlie nodding corn, and when the word of command had gone 
forth, he had led on the remnant that were left, till charging to the 
cannon’s mouth, the bayonet revenged the losses they had sustained; 
and when the fight was won, he had sal by the couch of some 
wounded comrade, and watched the strong man battle as it were 
with death, and yield liis last sigh in a fruitless struggle with the 
inexorable enemy. But he had never before seen any one worn to 
the brink of the grave by sorrow and disease, and despite the utmost 
efforts to the contrary, the sight shocked and distressed him deeply. 
The picturesque stage of decline had long since passed away, and in 
the appearance of his victim, the destroyer stood revealed in his true 
colors. I’he features of the pool sufferer were characterized by an 
expression of fatigue and distress, that told of long days and weary 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


430 


niglits of patient endurance. Rlie was so emaciated, that the form 
ot Ihe skull and tlie outline of the bones of the cheek and jaw were 
distinctly visible through tlie parchment-hke skin, giving a strange, 
unearthly appearance to the face, while the parched lips, the dark 
lever spot burning in the center of each checK, and at intervals the 
low, husky cough, which once heard can never be mistaken, evinced 
only too surely the presence of that fell disease, which seems, as its 
neculiar attribute, to select its victims among the young and fair. 
Her whole appearance was so worn and ccrpse-like, that when, 
after a paroxysm of coughing, she raised her drooping eyelids and 
11x3(1 her earnest, appealing glance upon lier visitor, he started as 
though he had seen one raised from the dead by the agency of some 
special miracle. 

“ 1 thank God that you are come, sir,” she said, in a low, sweet 
voice, ” that 1 may yet do some good before 1 die. I have been the 
cause ot much evil in my short life, and 1 felt it a duty to tell you 
the truth of my sad histor}^ and do the little that is possible to save 
another from enduring the same misery ihat has brought me to the 
condition in which yDu see me.” bhe paused, and the silent, in- 
w^ard cough — the voice of death — again shook her fragile frame. 
” You do not know me,” she resumed. ‘‘ 1 am Jane Hardy." (As 
she mentioned her name the general started, and, bending his head, 
drank in her every word with deep attention.) ” About three years 
ago, or perhaps lather less, a gentleman who was staying at Broad- 
hurst, was thrown from his horse while hunting. He was stunned 
by the fall, and one of his companions brought him to our cot- 
tage. There was no one biit myself at home, and 1 fetched water 
and bathed hi^ temples. As soon as he began to re rive, the friend 
who had brought him said laughingly that he could not leave him 
in 1 ettcr hands, and quilted us to follow the hunt. As the gentle- 
man began to recover, he entered into conversation with me. He 
was very witty and clever, and told me ot Uie fine sights he had 
seen in forgeign lands, and many other beautiful and wonderful 
things which 1 never heard of, and before he went away he drew 
me to his side and kissed me, and said he should come agaiu to see 
his kind liltfe nurse, and 1— God help me!— 1 was young and sim- 
ple, and 1 believed all he said, and from that hour 1 ioved liim. 
Well, sir, he came not only once, but often, and 1 listened to his 
soft words and specious piomises until 1 ceased to think of, or care 
for, anything but him. 1 had no mother to warn me; my poor fa- 
ther had become stern and iiKuose, arid 1 feared him, and sought 
only to conceal my attachment from him. With some of the facts 
you, sir, are already acquainted. My father was captured on one 
of his poaching expeditions, and sent to jail. I sat up the whole 
night, waiting for his return, and in the early morning came, not 
he whom 1 was expecting, but my tempter. He told me what had 
occurred, revealed to me tor the first lime his reil rank, promised 
to obtain my father’s pardon by means of bis wealth and influence, 
and as the price ot his assistance, implored me to tly tvith him. He 
could not make me his bride in England, he said; his position for- 
bade it; but he vowed he would carry me to some bright land in 
the sunny south, and that we should be united, and live happily 
there. Weak fool that 1 was! 1 believed him, and ponsented. 


440 


LEWIS AliUKDEL. 


“ The rest ol the tale is soon told. 1 accompauiecl him to Lon- 
don. Oe was kind to me, and my dream continued. By his dedre, 
1 followed him to Rome under the care of hi«i valet. For a time i 
was treated with every attention; servants obeyed me, lii.xuries sur- 
rounded me; but his promise of marriage he never fulfilled. Then 
he began to grow tired ot me, and my punishment commenced, lie 
soon proved to me the true nature of his disposition, llis temper 
was fearful, at once passionate, sulky, and vindictive, and 1 was a 
safe object on which to vent it. Still, 1 could have borne this un- 
complainingly, if 1 could have believed that he continued to love 
me. But his coldness and indiderence became every hour more ap- 
parent till, at length, 1 awolte one morning to learn that he liad de- 
serted me. 1 discovered his direction, and wrote to him. 1 foie- 
bore leproaches; 1 knew that 1 had lost his love. I knew, alas! too 
late, that he had never really loved me, and all 1 sought was to re- 
turn to England, beg my father’s forgiveness, and then, it it pleased 
God, to die. But i entreated him to send me money enough to take 
me home again. He left my letter unanswered tor a week, anct 
then inclosed me a check for five pound'!, telling me that 1 had al- 
ready cost him more than I was worth, and thatl need expect noth- 
ing further at his bauds.” 

“ Aud the name of this diabolical scoundrel was—” inquired 
General Grant, eagerly. 

“ Lord Bellefield,” was the reply, in a clear, distinct, though fee- 
ble tone of voice. 

“ AVhat proof can you give me of this?” was the stern rejoinder. 

” These letters,” returned the girl, producing a small packet from 
beneath her pillow. 

The general took them, examined the postmarks and the seals, 
compared the signature wiih that ot a letter he took out of his 
pocket, read two or three cf them, and then returned them, mutter- 
ing in a voice that trembled with suppressed rage; ” They are gen- 
uine, and they are Im ” 

” The rest of my tale is soon t(>ld.'’ resumed Jane Hardy. ” Lord 
Bellefield had left debts behind him, and when it was known that 
he had quitted Rome, not meaning to return, thosc^ to whom he 
owed money seized the few valuables that 1 possessed (chiefly 
dresk-es and trinkets which lie had given me), and rny last hope, that 
of returning to England, was taken from me.” Here a fit of cough- 
ing, prolonged till it seemed as thought it must annihilate her teeblc 
frame, eflectuall}'^ interrupted the speaker. Her brother luild a 
strenglheniug coidial to her parched l.ps, aud after a lapse of some 
minutes she was enabled to resume her narration, though her voice* 
was so weak and husky that it was with diificulty lier auditor could 
catch her words. ” 1 have little more to tell,” shesaid; ” 1 suflered 
much, very much misery, bul. thanks to the kindness ot some sis- 
ters ot charily, rightly were they so called, 1 was saved from the 
depths of degradation, into which too many, deserted as 1 was, have 
been forced.” Again she paused from weakness, and with the 
tenderness of a woman, Miles Hardy wiped the cold dews of ap- 
proaching death from her brow, and put back the rich masses of 
her, (even yet,) beautiful hair. The general was visibly affected. 

” Can nothing be done to save her?” he said. ” 1 will ascertain 


LEWIS AEUNLEL. 441 

who are the most skillful physicians in Venice, and send them lo 
lier. No money shall be spared.” 

A dark look tlilted acro^s Miles’s face, but the dyinc pirl turned 
toward the speaker, and a faint smile testified that sue had lieaid 
and understood him. 

‘‘ Tell me,” she whispered, ” that m\^ last moments nave not 
l)een spent in vain. Your dau».diter — they say she is good and beau- 
tiful; he will take her heart for ttie plaything of an hour, and then 
crush it as he has crushed mine. You will not let her marr}^ him?” 

‘‘ Sooner would 1 see her stretched on her death-bed before me,” 
was the stern rejoinder. 

The girl smiled again. *‘ YY)u have made me sc happy,” she 
whispered. Then with difileulty, and pausing hetwcvn each word, 
she continued: ‘‘ ''rell him 1 forgive him, and pray for him; 1 ]uay 
that he may repent.” Again she paused, apparently struggling for 
breath. ” Miles, it is very dark,” she said; ” come nearer, dear!” 
Her brother placed his arm around her, and nestling her head in his 
bosom, an expression of chUd-like happiness spread over her features. 
Having lain thus for some moments, she suddenly started up, ex- 
claiming aloud, “Oh, God! my chest!” In a moment the severe 
pain seemed to fjass away, and the happy smile returned. ” May 
He bless you, dearest!” she murmured; then a solemn change came 
over her countenance, there w'as a slignt siruogle, and then the jaw 
relaxed, the eyes glazed, and she tell back in her broiiier’s arms a 
corpse. 

When, later on that night, women came to perform the last offices 
to the dead, an English Bible was found beneath the pillow, and a 
leaf was turned down at the text, ‘‘ Her sins, which are many, are 
forgiven, for she loved much;” words of merry we should do well 
to i)ear in mind, and humbly "rust they may indicate the future of 
many a ” broken and contrite heart.” 

While General Grant was thus occupied, Annie, little dreaming 
of the various events that had occurred, and whi di so nearly con- 
cerned her happiness, was thinking over the scenes of the morning, 
am! afflicting her spirit by the recollection of Lewis’s parting words. 
What vvould she not give that he could know the truth— know uhy 
she had allowed herself to be engaged to a man whom fjcwis Inul 
good reason to believe sne both disliked and feared? but it was im- 
possible, situated as she was, to enlighten him. and she must sub 
mil t > bear that most bitter of all trials, the knowledge that one we 
love thinks evil of us, and has just and reasonable grounds for such 
‘ misconception. Then her engagement to Lord Bellefield, now 
more hatetul lo her than ever — what should she do to avoid it?*to 
whom should she turn for counsel and assistance? — Laura? — she 
had great faith in her good sense, and, above all, her energy of 
chai’acttr — could she, dare alie confide in her? and she had just 
settled that she certainly could not, when a gentle tap was heard at 
the door. Annie cried ‘‘ Come in,” and Laura entered. 

” 1 hope 1 am not distur-hing 5 ^) 11 , d( ar,” slie said; ” but I grew 
fidgety about you, fearing the alarm and fatigue of the morning 
might have been too much tor your sti’ength. ” 

Annie smiled mournfufiy, and shook her head, at the same time 
making room for her friend on the settee, upon which she was re- 


443 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


alining. Laura placed herself by her side, and taking Annie’s hand 
in her own, stroked it caressingly. “ Poor little hand,” she said; 
“ how soft and white it is, but it is getting sadly thin; really, dear 
Annie. 1 must lecture you. You eat nothing, and your spirits have 
quite deserted 3"ou — you who were such a happy, merry little thing 
— it makes me miserable to see you.” 

She paused for a reply, and at length it came; hut in a form she 
did not expect, and which tended not at all to remove her anxiety. 

“ Do you think 1 am very ill, Laura?” Annie asked; ” so ill that 
1 am at all likely to die?” 

” No, darling; 1 hope — 1 trust not,” returned Laura, earnestly; 
** bur why do 3^11 ask, and in so strange a tone that one could almost 
fancy you wished that it might be so?” 

” Because ' 1 do wish it,” was the sad rejoinder. “If 1 live 1 
must be very unhappy— there is no help for it, and so 1 wish to die. 
Is that wrong? 1 am afraid it is.” 

Laura paused ere she replied. 

“ I don’t think you are likel}" to die — grief kills very slowly. I 
am sure you need not die of grief, or seek to die to escape a life of 
unhappiness, if 3mu would onl}" be reasonable. I love 3^ou as I 
should have loved a sister, had 1 possessed one; my only desire is 
to render you happier. 1 am a woman, as yourself, and as little 
likely as you would be were our situations reversed, to do or coun- 
sel anything which could wound your feelings or compromise 3’our 
delicacy, and yet you lock your sorrow in yniir owui breast, and 
refuse to give me sufTicient insight into }'our heart to enable me to be 
ot the slightest comfort or assistance to you. Is this wise, or even 
kind?’" 

ii^uch an appeal, coming at this particular moment, was irresisti- 
ble. Annie threw her arms round her friend, hid her face on 
Laura’s shoulder, and sinking her voice almost to a whisper, in- 
quired; 

“ AVhat is It you wish la know?” 

“ Y"ou dislike Lord Bellefield, and wish not to marr}^ him?” 

“ Yes, oh, 3^8!” was the unmistakable answer. 

“ You iove— ” 

Annie sunk back, but Laura’s arm passed round her slender waist, 
detained her 

“ You love Lewis Arundel?” 

This time Annie did not reply, but a convulsive pressure of the 
hand ansvvered Laura’s question better t him words could have done. 

“ Then, if 3mu love him as he deserves to be loved, how could 
you allow yourself to be forced into an engagement with Lord Belle- 
field?” 

“ Must 1 indeed reveal to you all my folly and weakness?” mur- 
mured poor Annie. 

“ Beally, 1 am afraid you must, dear, if 3mu wish my advice to 
be of the smallest use to 3mu. ” returned Laura, wdth a kind, encour- 
aging smile; “ but perhaps tlic follies may prove not to have been 
80 very foolish, and the weaknesses turn out amiable ones after all. 
Come, let us hear!” 

Thus urged, Annie recounted with smiles and tears, and words 
now dropping in broken sentences, now poured forth with all the 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


443 


calmer vehemence witli which feelings long restrained at length find 
vent, that portion of this veritable history which especially related 
to herself, and the rise and progress of her iinf<»rtiinaie attachment, 
until she reached the point whereat, overwhelmed by the belief that 
b-ewis had departed trom'Broadhurst, suspecting her love and not 
reciprocating it, she had permitted herself to be hurried into an en- 
gagement with Lord Bellefield, sacrificing herself to guard against 
the possibility of any imputation being cast upon lier maidenly re- 
serve. Here Laura interrupted her by exclaiming: 

“ My poor child! 1 see it all now; you are to be pitied, not blamed; 
would to Heaven you had known the truth earlier: liow much mis- 
ery it might have saved you. Lewis Arundel quitted Broadhurst, 
because he loved you with all the impassioned lenderness of his 
fiery nature, and found even his iron will powerless lo control or 
longer to conceal Ids feelings.” 

” How do you know this?” exclaimed Annie, sweeping back her 
luxuriant ringlels from iier flushed cheeks, and fixing her large, 
eager eyes upon her friend’s countenance. 

‘‘ From his own lips wlien he first heard that you were coming 
here,” was the reply, and Annie, pressing her hands to her eyes, 
hid her face in Ihe sofa-cushion, and burst into tears; but this time 
they were tears of joy. 

Then, when she had in some degree recovered from her agitation, 
Annie learned the history of Lewis’s wanderings lo cure Ids love, 
and how signally the remedy had tailed, and how he liad tinned 
painter, and was cleverer than anybody else (a tact of which she 
felt convinced before she heard it), and liow Laura had discovered 
his secret 1 11 rough the medium of his sketch of Annie and Faust 
(she did not mention the ” Giaour ” pictures, tearing to alarm her 
friend) and how' Charles and she had seen a erreat deal of him and 
become very fond of him; (oh, liow' Annie loved her for saying that!) 
and how at last one day she had gained his confidence, and he had 
tohl her all, and how she had resolved never to breathe a syllable 
of it to Annie, unless she could clear hersell in the matter of accept- 
ing Lord Bellefield, and thus prove herself not unw’orthy to possess 
the knowledire that the priceless blessings of Lewis’s noble and 
generous heart was bets, and heis only. And when Laura had fin- 
ished, Annie, like a true W’oman, contrived by a series of cunning- 
simple queslions to make her tell her tale all over again, particularly 
those portions which related to Lewis’s nobleness of nature, and the 
depth, stnmgth, and permanent quality of his affection tor herself, 
and when all had been said and resaid iliat could by any possibility 
be found to say, even on this interesting matter, Annie fixed her 
soft, imploring eyes on her friend's countenance, and asked in a 
tone ( t the most innocent but complete helplessness: 

‘‘ And now, dear Laura, tell me what is to he done?” 

Up t(» this moment Laura had considered Ihe whole question to 
hinge on one point, was Annie worthy of the love of such a man as 
JiOwis or not? This satisfactorily decided, all other difiiculties 
seemed, by comparison, insignificant; but now, when tlie monster 
obstacle had disappeared, the engagement to Lord Bellefield, the 
generars obstinacy, Lewis’s piide, Annie’s womanly reserve and 
Charley’s indolence and dislike of saying or doing anything which 


444 


LEWIS AKUNEEL. 


could by the remotest possibility irritate or annoy any one, all 
flashed across her, and bewildered her. Still, she had ereat faith in 
her own energy, and in the goodness of her cause, and so replied, 
vaguely, but confidently: 

“ Wl»y. niy love! it's perfectly absurd to give way to despair, as 
3 ^ 0.1 have been doing; of course, something must, and therefore can, 
and shall be done; but what it is to be, will, i confess, require some 
little consideration!” 

And just when their deliberations had reached this point, Laura 
received a summons from her husband desiring to speak with her, 
so she imprinted a kiss cn Annie’s smooth brow, and the}^ X)artcd. 

” 1 say, Laura, read this,” exclaimed Chaile.y, looking worried 
and perplexed, as he handed his wife the following note: 

” Dear Charles, 1 have desired your servant to give you this note 
in case 1 should not return in the course of the next two hours. 1 
am about to accompany a young stranger, repi’esenting himself to 
be an English sailor, to visit his sister, who is on her death -bed, 
and has some communication to make to me. 1 have examined the 
man, and believe his tale; but if 1 should not return within the time 
specified, it is probably a clever fabrication, and as no he can Ire 
framed for other than an evil purpose, you had better appl}^ at 
once to the police, and look after me in whatever way they may 
advise. 

“ Yours faithfully, 

“ Auchibald Ghant.” 

” Pleasattt that,” resumed Chariey, as Laura, having finished the 
note, returned it with looks of alarm. ‘‘ Evans declares it’s more 
than two hours since General Grunt started, and there are no signs 
of him 3 'et. Why people can’t slay quietly at home when Uiey’ve 
got a good house over their heuds, instead of rushing out to seek 
dangerous adventuies, 1 can’t thinii. 1 should have sup;>osed the 
general had arrived at a time of life when he would huve sense 
enougn not to be gulled by messages from girls, either living (^r 
dying. Perhaps the summons was meant lor Bellefield after all, 
and the bearer delivered it to the wrong man; what a joke thut 
would be, eh?” 

” Really, Charles, 1 don’t think it is anything to laugh at,” re- 
turned Laura, anxiously. ” Is your brother at home?” 

‘‘ No, ISelle’s out, too, my family is becoming shockingly dissi- 
pated.” 

” Had 3 ^ou not belter apply to the police, as the note proposes?” 
urged Laura. 

” Police, indeed,” muttered Charley. “ The geneial can’t re- 
member that he is out of London. I wonder be did not direct me 
to send a cab for him. Tiiesc confounded sulky Austrian officials 
are rather diflerent customers to deal with than our blue-bottles, 
]\lessis A. L and Co. The oid}^ thing is to go down to tlie consul’s 
olliee, and that must be done, I suppose, but it’s an awful bore.” 

So saying, Charley yawned, stietcbed hiinsetl, maile Jjaura ring 
lor his boots, and had just accomplished the labor of i)ulliug them 
on, when rapid footsteps were heanl, doors opened and shut, and 
the object of their anxiety stood before them, his face flushed with 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 445 

exercise, and bearing in Lis whole manner traces of excitement and 
agilation, 

“ Well, general,'’ began Charley, “ we were just going to com- 
mence fi-liing for you in all tne canals — ” when his auditor inter- 
rupted liim by inquiring in i quick, eager voice: 

“ Your brother is not in the h uise. is he?” 

“ No, he has been out all the evening, and is not yet returned,” 
was the reply. 

” Leave us, Laura, there is a good girl.” exclaimed the general 
” Slay,” he continued, as Jaiui'a was quitting the room, ‘‘ do not say 
anything which can alarm Annie.” 

Laura nodded he** acquiescence, and departed. 

” I am very anxious about your brother,” resumed the general. 
” As 1 was returning from this most strange and painful expedition, 
the young man who had summoned me still acting as my guide, 
some person followed in, and as we were crossing the Rialto, ap- 
proached, and tapj)iug my companion on the shoulder, detained 
him. They conversed in Italian, hut 1 made out enough of what 
they said to catch the following words spoken by the new-comer: 

” ‘ 1 have traced him the evening through. He went from — ' (the 

names of the places 1 could not hear) ‘ to , which he has this 

moment quitted. Jacopo and the others are prepared; we only 
await your directions. W by have you not joined us sooner?’ 

” ‘ It was impossible,’ was the reply; * but all will yet go as it 
should. ’ 

” Then turning to me, my guide continued: ‘ Y^ou have now only 
to walk straight on to reach the square of St. Mark’s; no one will 
interrupt you. Farewell, sir, and remember liev wishes.' 

” This referred to his poor sister, about whom I will tell you au- 
other time. He and his companion then quitted me. jMechiUiically 
1 walked forward, reflecting on the interview, which had harrassed 
and distressed me greatly, till, suddenly recalling the words 1 had 
just overheard, a new idea struck me, and 1 turned and looked 
back. As 1 did so, 1 perceived, at some distance off, a man care- 
lessly advancing toward me — at the moment several others rushed 
out upon him, there was a short struggle, then, as it seemed to me, 
he was overpowered, a cloak was flimg over his head and he was 
hurried away. Instantly 1 rushed to the spot, but it was 6om<.‘ con- 
siderable distance from the place where 1 had been standing, and 
when 1 arrived there no traces of them were visible. The whole 
affair from beginning to end was over in less than a minute, but 
from the glimpse 1 had I feel convinced the man 1 saw carried off 
was your brother.” 

” Nonsense!” exclaimed Charles, starting, ” kidnap Bcllefield; 
why, what possible motive could anybody have for doing that?’' 

“One only too powerful— revengt !” was the alarming reply. 

” My guide was young IJauly, whose sister Bellefield has cruelly 
betrayed and forsaken. C’ome, Charles, let us obtain aid and seek 
and save him; God grant wc may not arrive loo lute,” 


446 


LEWIS AKUXDEL. 


CHAPTER LXL 

THE FATE OF THE WOLF. 

Aftek the disturbance at the Casino, Lord Bellefield, accom- 
panied by Rastelli, repaired to a shooting-giillery, where his lord- 
ship practiced with pistols tor an hour. Having by repealed suc- 
cesses assured himself that his late tall had not shaken his nerves to 
a degree which could interfere with his skill as a duelist, he turned 
to his companion, observing; “ Now, Rastelli, devise some method 
of killing time foi the next hour or so; 1 am anxious not to return 
to the Palazzo Grassini till the family have letired for the night. 1 
had rather avoid meeting any of them till this little affair is over. 
Wliat can we contrive to do with ourselves?” 

” Come home with me, and let us have a qu'et game at icarte,’' 
was the reply; ” that will amuse without exciting you. 1 wish 
you to keep cool, in order to punish tor his temerity the insolent 
Luigi.” As he spoke the dark QyQ of the Italian flashed with the fire 
of revenge. 

Lord Bellefield remarked his eagerness, and smiled contemptu- 
ously. ” Calm yourself, my good Rastelli,” he said, quietly light- 
ing a cigar. ” .lustice shall be done, depend on it.” 

” How cold and phlegmatic you English are,” exclaimed Rastelli, 
irritated at his companion’s apparent apathy; ‘‘ had the brigand in- 
sulted me as he has insulted you, if I had not stabbed him on the 
spot, 1 should have known no peace till he lay bleeding at my 
feet.” 

Lord Bellefield placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder, and ap- 
proaching his lip to his ear, said, in a low, impressive voice 
“Listen! we Englishmen do not talk about these things, we do 
them,” There was a cold, grating bitterness in his tone, winch told 
ot such fiendish malice working at his heart, that the Italian’s dis- 
play of boyish passion shrunk into insignificance beside it. 

Togetlierthey repaired to RasteUi’s dwelling, cards were produced, 
and tlieir game btgan. With the calculating prudence of an ac- 
complished gamester. Lord Bellefield played cautiously and for 
moderate sums, till he had tested his adversary’s caliber; then, con- 
fident in his own skill, he artfully led on the young Italian to pro- 
pose higher stakes, until, at the expiration of an hour and a half, 
lie had won above a couple of bundled pounds. 

“ Toil are becoming excited, and beginning to play wildly, amico 
mio," he said, pushing back his chair; “ wc will pause for to- 
night.” 

“ And wdien wMll yon give me my revenge?’" inquired the Italian, 
with flushed checks and trembling lips. 

“ When you like — lo-morrow evening, if it so please you- always 
supposing our peep-of-day amusement goes as it should do,” an- 
swered Lord Ifellelield, carelessly. 

“ And what if you shoidi^ be hit?” questioned Rastelli, with a 
grim smile, which involuntarily suggested to his auditor the idett 
that such a catastrophe would not deeply distress him. 


LEWIS AltUXDEL. 


447 


“ To provide against such a contingency, 1 shall make my will 
to-night, and appoint you executor and residuary legatee; so that 
wlicn you luive satisfied the tew claims against me, the remainder 
of my property will be yours, to compensate for this evening’s run 
of ill-luck,” was ilie jesting reply. 

llastelli having by ihis time in a degiee recovered his good humor, 
answered in the same liizht tone. Then, having made their final 
arrangements for the morrow’s meeting, they shook hands and 
parted. 

As Lord Bellefield gained the street, the conventional smile faded 
from his lips, and a dark, sullen expression imparted a gloom 3 ^ 
ierocil,y to his countenance. Bis look did not belie the nature of 
his tliouglits, which ran somewhat after the following fashion* 

‘‘A nice thing I’m in for— to think of that accursed Aiundel 
turning up in sucli an out-of-the-way place as this! JVJy ill-luck 
follows me everywhere. That scoundrel is my evil genius. I shall 
be rid of him to-morrow, for I’ll shoot him like a dog, that’s some 
comfort.” He paused. Then a new idea' seemed to strike him, 
and he muttered: ” Curse him, he means to murder me; 1 read it 
in his fiendish eyes. I wonder whether he is anything of a shot? 
A nice way to lose one’s life, in a quarrel with a tutor! It’s next 
door to going out with one’s valet. Well, I’m in for it, and must 
chance it; a quick aim and a hair-trigger may pick him off, as it 
has done many a better fellow, before he bus ti»ne to be mischiev- 
ous. 1 w’onder whether Ch lies or old Giant knows of Ids l)eing 
liere? If not, tho thing can be easily inisbed up.” A sound as of 
a man’s footstep caused him to start and look round, but seeing no 
one he resumed; ‘‘Assassination is said to be one of the fasliious 
liere; I wish 1 was a little more au fait as to the customs of the 
natives, or had longer time to act in. 1 might get my friend quietly 
disposed of without risk or trouble.” lie reflected a moment on 
the feasibility c t such a scheme; but the spirit of revenge and hate 
was strong within him and muttering a fearful curse, he added*. 

‘‘No, him, I’d rather shoot him with my own hand! That 

blow sticks by me.” 

At this moment a man started out from a dark archway so sud- 
denly, as nearly to run against Lord Bellefield, who, drawing him- 
self up indiguantly, was about to commence an angiy remonstrance, 
when his elbows were pinioned from heliind, some person tripped 
up his heels, a cloak was flung over his head, and despite his 
attempts to free himself, be was overpowered and hurried away by 
a party of several men. After proceeding some short distance, they 
reached the bank of a canal. Ueie they paused, and still holding 
the cloak over their captive’s head to prevent him from giving an 
alarm, they hound his hands. One, who seemed to possess authority 
over the others, superintended this operation in person. “Not so 
tight,” he said, to an overzealous individual, who was tying the 
cold as though it were never to he unfastened, not so tight, it will 
mimb his arms. Now/’ he continued, “ raise him carefully,” and 
ill obedience to his command, Lord Bellefield felt himself lilted from 
his feet, and placed in a lying position, at the bottom of what he 
rightly imagined to be a gondola. Having ascertained by lif-tening, 
that a portion of his captors were engagevl in rowing the boat. Lord 


44S 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


Bellcfield made an effort to remove the cloak from h/s face, sliglilly 
raising himselt as lie did so. Immediatel}" a heavy hand pressed 
liim down, and a deep, low voice, uttered the following caul ion: 
“ 'riiere is tiie point of a nr.ked stiletto within an inch ot your heart; 
it you again attempt t(» move or speak, 1 plunge it in!” 

Thus warned, nothing remained but to he still, and awai*^^ his 
captor’s pleastire, which alternative, distracted by mingled lage and 
fear, Lord Bellelield was forced to adopt. From the time occupied 
by tlieir transit, it appeared that they must have proceeded some 
considerable distance ere the gondola again stopped. Carefully 
guarded as befoie, the prisimer was taken on shore, half-led, halt- 
carried. over some uneven, stony ground, in traversing which his 
conductors were more than once forced to turn aside, as it to avoid 
some obstacle that lay in their path. He was then told to ascend steps, 
doors were unbarred to afford them ingress, and the air struck cold 
and damp, as from a vault. At length, apparently, they reached 
their desti tuition, and t)ie prisoner was made to sit down on a stone 
bench, a light w^ls procured, and then the order w’as given: ‘ Untie 
his hands, remove the cloak, and leave us.” 

The person spoken to obeyed, and in another moment Lord Belle- 
field was able to look round him. The chamber in which he found 
himselt was small, the roof was high and vaultel, and the walls 
appeared of an immense thickness. The door was of oak, thickly 
studded with iron nail-heads; there was no fire-place, an antiijiie 
lamp, hanging by a chain from the roof, lighted the apartment, and 
a grated window, sunk in the thickness of the wall, seemed to afford 
the only means of communication with the outward air. 

As Lord Bellefield became aware of these particulars, the man 
who had released his hands anil removed the cloak quitted the room, 
locking and barring the door on the outside. 

In another moment the sound of their retreating footsteps echoed 
along the stone passage and died away in the distance. A shudder 
passed over Lc-rd Bellefield’s frame as he found himself thus 
strangely left alone with one whose purpose he could scarcely im- 
agine other than hostile. As his companion— who wore one ot 
those half-masks termed a domino, which effectuall}^ concealed his 
features — dhl not seem inclined to address him. Lord Bellefield had 
time to examuie, with a beating heart, the preparations made for 
liis reception. The only article of furniture tlie apartment con- 
tained, w’ith the exception ot the stone bench on which he was 
seated, was a heavy oak table. At the end nearest him lay a drawm 
sword, the blade crossed by that of a naKed stiletto, in front of wdiicJi 
w’as placed a loaded pistol. A similar arrangement of w^eapons 
garnislnd the other end of the table, by which stood the motionless 
figure of the stranger. The whole thinir was so strange, and so like 
some fancy of a horrible dream, that it was with difficulty Lord 
Bellcfield could believe the evidence of his senses. At length the 
silence became so horribly oppressive, that, even at the risk ot liiirry- 
ing on his late, he resolved to break it. Addressing his captor, he 
asked, in a voice which trembled in spite of bis efforts to appear 
cool and indifferent: “What place is this to which you have 
brought me?” 

The person addressed paused a moment, and then without remov- 


LEWIS ARtJKDEL. 


449 


iriff his mask, replied. “The ruins of the convent of the Black 
Flagellants, situated on an island in the lagunes, a mile from 
Venice.’' 

Up to this moment, Lord Bellefield had been possessed with a 
secret belief that his captor was none other than Lewis Arundel, 
and having a'read}" had a convincing proof both of his enemy’s 
bodily strength, and of the implacable nature < f his feelings toward 
him, the idea that he had kidnapped him, and carried him off to 
this desolute place in order to force upon him a combat d oxitrance, 
with weapons, in the use of which his skill as a duellist would avail 
him little, was by no means an agreeable one. This fear his com- 
panion’s speech had dispelled, for the voice, though deep and stem, 
was not the voice of Lewis. Ignorant of the existence of any other 
person likely to nourish deep feelings of revenge against him. Lord 
Bellefield immediately conceived that he had fallen into the 1 ands 
of some English ruffian connected with banditti, and m this case 
their object would probably be plunder, and the solitary chamber, 
the naked weapons, etc. , mere scenic arrangements got up tor the 
sake of intimidating him, and so making a better bargain. Much 
lelieved by this view of the affair, he began: 

“ Tour object in bringing me here is of course plunder, in which 
case all this absurd mummery is utterly needless. Tou have only 
to name some reasonable sum for my ransom, and as I can not get 
out of the scrape otherwise, 1 must pay it.” 

“ You will find it no mummery, and are wrong in supposing 
money win be of the slightest avail to you,” was the reply. 

Lord Bellefield, however, still consideiing his idea a right one, 
and accounting for this speech, as he had already accounted tor the 
presence of the weapons, viz.: as a means of intimidating him, to 
extort from his fears a higher ransom, he continued: 

“ My good fellow, you have completely mistaken 3'our man; all 
your tragedy nonsense is quite thrown away upon me. The affair 
is simply a matter of business; you require money, and knowing 
my rank, imagine me a Crcesus. 1 am nothing of the kind, but I 
can make it well worth your while to set me free. Conduct me 
safely to the square of St. Mark’s, and 1 will give you a hundred 
napoleons.’' 

“ A million curses on your money!” exclaimed the other, furi- 
ously. “ May the bitter curse of a broken heart cleave to the rank 
and riches which have served to add a false splendor to as mean 
and pitiful a sco'indrel as ever disgraced God’s earth. Fool! let me 
undeceive you— I am Miles Hardy ” (as he spoke he flung down 
his mask), '' the brother of your victim — 1 have brought you here 
to die. Now do you think your monej’’— that money w'hicb you re- 
fused to give to save her from a life of infamy or a beggar’s death 
— is likely to bribe me to change my purpose?” 

For a moment Lord Bellefield was uiteiiy confounded by this 
declaration. He had never been aware that Jane had a brother, 
and the surprise added to his discomfiture; besides, hardened as he 
was, he felt that he had deeply wronged the girl, and a superstitious 
instinct of the justice of the retribution which had overmken him, 
helped still more effectually to terrify and crush him. For once 
his haughty spirit and presence at mind failed him, and mistaking 


450 


LKWTS ARrXDKL. 


Utterly the character of the man with whom he had to deal, \\v re- 
solved first, it possible, to deceive, then to cajole and bribe him. 

“ Refuse money to Jane Hardy!” he began, in a tone ot feigned 
surprise, ” ydu must have sirangely deceived yourself. While she 
remained with me, 1 lavished hundreds upon her, and when, with 
the caprice ot her sex, she chos^ to leave me for some more fortu- 
nate swain, as 1 imagine, ignorance of her abode alone prevented 
my settling a liberal allowance upon her. Even now 1 am ready to 
do so if she wishes it VVhere is she?” 

A look of contempt nous anger, which liad overspread Miles 
Hardy’s face as Lord Bellefield uttered these falsehoods, gave place 
to an expression ot deep solemnity as he replied; ” She is where 
you t\’ill be ere another day dawns, wretched liar that you are, gone 
to answer for her sins before her God!” 

“Dead!” exclaimed Lord Bellefield, involuntarily shocked into 
an expression ot feeling. Miles regarded him attentively. Had he 
discerned in him any symptoms of real grief for her loss, any signs 
ot true penitence for the destruction he had wrought, there wuis that 
working in the brother’s heart wdiich might evxm ytt have saved 
him. But a doom wuis upon the seducer, and a fresh display ot his 
evil sordid nature hastened it. “ Poor girl!” he said. “ ’Pon iny 
word. Hardy, I’m quite shocked at this sudden intelligence; i 
really was excessively fond of her at one time — a — I mean to sa}^ 
before she chose to run aw^ay from me; however, you must not take 
the affair so deeply to heait. 1 can assure you these things are 
happening every day, and 1 always meant to make her a liberal 
settlement; howeyer. as that is now unfoitunately impossible, w^e 
must see wLat can he done for you.” Having delivered himself of 
this heartless speech, which he considered a model of diplomacy. 
Lord Bellefield paused to observe its effect upon his auditor. Miles 
stood for a moment as if absorbed in grief, murmuring to bimself; 
“ My poor Jane! and was it tor such a thing as this you sacrificed 
your young life! My poor— poor sister!” Then suddenly raising 
his head, he said, with a glance of the most withering scorn: 

“ Your mean lies will prove of as little use to you as your 
money; 1 loathe it, them and you al ke. 1 have told you J brought 
you here to die, and 1 have told you true, but i am no murderer, 
and it you have the courage of a man, you have got one chance yet 
remaining. On that table lie six weapons, three for you, and thiee 
for me. Choose which you will, and come on; only, it the first 
fails, we must try the second, and if that does not end the matter, 
there still remains the third. Come, make your choice.” 

“ Well, but hear me,” began Lord Bellefield, turning pale. 

“ Kot a word,” was the angry answ’cr, “ instantly defend your- 
seif. If you refuse, 1 will shoot you wdiere you staud.” Su say- 
ing, he advanced a step toward the table. 

Lord Bellefield, wdio had risen during the last speech, slowly fol- 
lowed his example, casting, as he did so, a scrutinizing look round 
the apartment, and especially toward the window; the action did 
not escape Hardy’s cpiick sight. 

‘‘Your search is useless,” he said, smiling contemj tuoiisly. 
“ Were you here alon(% with proper tools at hand, and knowing 
how to use them to the best advantage, it would take you two hours 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


451 


to ))reak out of this place. If you call ever so loudly, there is no 
one to hear you — my companions are half-way back to \"enice by 
this time. You have nothin^^ left but to overcome me, or to die the 
dog’s death you deserve.” 

“ 'Tis false!” exclaimed Lord Bellefield, eagerly. ‘‘ My friends 
have succeeded in traciuc; me, and even now 1 hear the tread of 
soldiers in the passage. Hark!” 

Witli a gesture of surprise, Hard}’^ turned toward the door. This 
was all Lord Bellef.eld wanted. Springing forward, he seized the 
pistol, leveled it, and with the speed of thought, fired. Looking 
round. Hardy perceived too late the snare that had been laid for 
him. As he did so, a sharp stinging oain, followed by a sensation 
like the burn of a red-hot iron, passed round his left side. The 
ball, aimed at his heart, had struck against the handle of a clasp- 
knife which, sailor-fashion, he wore slung round his neck by a 
string, and glancing oR, entered the side, and passed round one of 
the libs under the skin, lodging among the muscular fibers of the 
shoulder-blade. Furious at the cowardly stratagem to which he had 
so nearly fallen a victim, and half-mnddeoed with the pain of his 
wound, Hardy seized the other, pistol, and shouting: ” Die, you 
infernal, treacherous scoundrel!” snapped it at his adversaiy but, 
owing to the priming being damp, the pistol rusty, or for some 
other unexplained reason, the cap exploded without discharging the 
weapon. Flinging it down with an oath, he snatched up the sword 

that lay neaiest to him, and exclaiming: ” Come on and be to 

you I” scarcely gave his antagonist time to follow his example, ere 
he attacked him furiously. 

For a minute or two, cut and thrust followed each other so rapid- 
ly, that all seemed confusion. Then, as their first fury became ex- 
pended, and they fought more cautiously. Lord Bellefield peiceived, 
to his extreme satisfaction, that he was the better swordsman of the 
two, Haidy having merely picked up the use of a cutlass on board 
of a man of war, while his antagonist had learned fencing among 
the other military exercises of a cavalry regiment in which, till 
within the last two or three 3'ears, he had held a commission. It, 
theretore, he could conirive ti» defend himself till Hardy’s fury, 
should hav^e, in some degree, worn out his strength, he trusted 
either to disarm liis atlversaiy, or by a well-directed Thrust, rid him- 
self of him forever. Nor w’as he disappointed in this expectation, 
for having with some difficulty parried a furious thrust, he caught 
Hardy’s sword with the blade of his owm weapon, and, by a sudden 
turu of the wrist, sent it flying out of his hand, leaving his enemy 
defenseless and at his mercy. This being a quality for which his 
lordship w^as never famous, more especially when, as in the present 
instance, its exercise might compromise his own safety, he drew 
back a step lo get room for his thrust, with the benevolent intention 
or running his opponent through the body. Witii the speed of 
lightning Hardy perceived the only chance remaining for him, and 
unhesitatingly adopted it. Snatching up one of the stilettos, he 
rushed upon Lord Bellefield, and, receiving his thrust through the 
flesh}’^ part of his left arm, closed with him, and buried the dagger 
in his heart. Uttering a sound between a gt spiug sob and a groan, 


45:3 


LEWIS AKUKDEL. 


the young nobleman slaggererl, raised his arm as it in the act to 
strike, and fell back a corpse. 

Thus did the vengeance of the great God whom he had insulted 
by a life of selfish crime, overtake this wicked man in the pride of 
his youth and strength, and tnus in the same ni^ht were the liberline 
and his victim called to appear belore the judge ot all the earth, to 
answer for their deeds, whether they had done good or whether 
they had done evil. For the humble penitent we may indeed sor- 
row, yet not as without hope, knowing that “the blood of Christ 
Jesus" cieansetli from all sin:” but for the impenitent wicked, cut off 
in the midst of crime, lying with his selfish heart untouched, his 
evil nature unregenerated, “there rernaineth no longer any hope, 
but a fearful looking-for of judgment to come.” 


CHAPTER LXll. 

FAUST PAYS A MORNIKG VISIT. 

pRERE, on the principle of striking while the iron is hot, had no 
sooner obtained Lewis’s promise to place in his hands the arrange- 
ment of the quarrel between Lord Bellefield and himself, than he 
induced his friend to write a carefully worded apology tor having, 
in the heat of passion, assaulted his lordship on the previous even- 
ing. Lewis took tne pen, and, without a murmur, wrote as P'rere 
dictated, his compressed lips ami knitted brow alone telling ot the 
martyrdom his proud spirit was undergoing; but his strength of 
will was as powerful for good as for evil; he had resolved on the 
sacrifice, and cost what it might, he would make it. 

“ And now what is your intention?” he inquired, as Frere, 
having signified his approbation of its contents, folded the note 
and deposited it safely in his pocket-book. “ suppose Bellefield 
should refuse to accept this apology?” 

“ JNever fear,” was the confident reply, “ he must accept it: and 
to tell you the truth, although he may bluster and give himself airs 
when he perceives you are not forthcoming, 1 expect he wdll only 
be too glad to be quit ot such an awkward customer. 1 don’t wish 
to be personal, but depend upon it you are by no means pleasant as 
an enemy; there is a ‘ lurking devil in your eye,’ as Byron says, 
(and he ought to know about devils, for, adopting the fallen angel 
liy potliesis, he was very much like one himself), that would try a 
ma'n’s nerve rather when he found himself opposite your loaded 
pistol at eighteen paces.” 

Lewis smiled faintly. 

“ The devil has been pretty well taken out of me this time,” he 
said; “ henceforth 1 shall be essentially a man of peace.” 

He paused, pressed his hand on his brow, and a slight shiver 
passed through his frame. Frere regarded him anxiously. 

” What are you shivering about?” he inquired. “ You don’t feel 
ill, do you?” 

‘‘ ISo; it is nothing,” was the reply. “ 1 have, as you npiy eas- 
ily imagine, gone through a good deal, both nn ntally and bodily, 
of late, and 1 am a little overworn, but a couple ot hours’ filec]> will 
set me right again,” 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


453 


“Then the sooner you take it the better,” rejoined Freie. 
“ Never mind me; 1 shall ensconce myself in this arm-chair till the 
man of war, your second, makes his appearance, and sleep or read 
as the fates may incline. What time do you expect your accom- 
plice?” 

“ He will be here at half past four,” was the reply. 

” And it is now just two, so turn in, and pleasant dreams to you.” 

Thus saying, Frere flung himself back in the chair, and drawing 
a volume of Dante out of his pocket, set to work to polish up his 
Italian, as he termed it. Lewis rose to follow his friend’s advice, 
but a mist seemed to swim before his eyes, his brain reeled, his 
trembling knees refused to support him, and staggering forw’ard, 
he sunk heavily on the ground in a tainting fit. Frere, much 
alarmed, raised him in his arms, and carrying him with some diffi- 
culty into the inner room, laid him on his bed, and began, with 
more energy than skill, to apply every conceivable or inconceivable 
remedy to recover him, but with only partial success; for although 
after the lapse of a few moments color returned to his lips and pulsa- 
tion to his heart, he neither spoke nor appeared to recognize his 
friend’s voice, and after a few inarticulate murmurs, sunk into a 
dull, heavy sleep. Frere covered him with the bed-clothes as T^ell as 
he was abie, then, drawing a chair close to the bedside, seated lifmself 
thereupon to watch his slumbers. Half past four arrived, and with 
it Major Ehrenburg, the Austrian oflicer who had promised lo act 
as Lewis’s second. Before he came a new idea had entered Frere’s 
head— it might not be necessary to make use of the apology at all. 
Lewis’s sudden illness would be sufficient reason for his not meet- 
ing his adversary. 

‘ The amusement you have promised yourself in seeing my friend 
shoot or be shot, you will be disappointed of, mein lieber Herr,'' 
he said, with a quiet smile, as the Austrian stared at him in surprise 
and twisted his mustaches fiercely. ” Lord Belletield in his angry 
moods is no doubt a very terrible fellow, but Lewis is about to 
wrestle with a more deadly toe yet, or 1 am much mistaken.” 

‘ Excuse me, sir, 1 have no time for badinage,” returned the 
other, bowing with haughty politeness, “ nothing can prevent this 
duel 1 must speak to Signor Luigi himself immediately. Permit 
me to pass.” 

‘‘Oh! certainly,” replied Frere, holding open the door of the 
bedroom; ” but, in regard to not being able to prevent the duel, 

‘ there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are 
dreamt of m your ph losophy.’ You will find my words to be 
true. See, his adveisary has laid him on his back already.” 

The young soldier advanced to the bedside. Lewis still slept, but 
his slumbers were disturbed and feverish. As the other bent over 
him, he turned uneasily and murmured some inarticulate sounds 
Laying his hand on his shoulder, Ehrenburg attempted to rouse him. 

” Luigi," he said, ” it is late; they will be on the ground before 
us.” 

The mily reply was again an iuaiticulate murmur; but on his re- 
peating nis summons, Lewis sat up and stared about him with a 
look of dull unconsciousness, then a wild light came into his eyes. 


454 LEWIS AllUKDEL. 

and glaring furiously at the Austrian, he exclaimed in a hoarse 
voice* 

“ Villain, it is false! she loves you not— she never loved you!” 

” Do you nol know me, Luigi?” inquired Ehrenburg, in a more 
soothing tone of voice. 

” Know you, scoundrel, yes! On earth, or in the lowest hell, 1 
should know and hate you!” He paused, glanced wildly round the 
room, then exekimed, in a voice scarcely audible through passion: 
‘‘ What! here in my own house do you come to triumph over and 
to insult me? This is loo much.” And with a scream of fury he 
made a spring at the other’s throat, which he would have succeeded 
in graspins:, probb.bly to his severe injury, had not Erere, who had 
watched him closely during the foregoing scene, thrown himself 
upon him, and with the assistance of the youiig soldier, who at 
length began to perceive the true state of the case, contrived to hold 
him down, till, exhausted by the violence of his struggles, he ceased 
to resist an 3 ' longer. 

” He must have exposed himself to malaria, and the fever has 
attacked the brain— is it not so?” inquired Ehrenburg as soon as he 
had recovered breath enough to speak. 

‘‘So 1 fear,” was the reply. ‘‘Malaria, or macaroni, or some 
horrid foreign thing or other, has brought on a violent fever, and, 
as you see, he is now about as mad as a March hare, (though per- 
haps a belief in that popular zoological delusion may not extend to 
the Austrian dominions)” — this last remark was made sotto wee — 
” and now, major, the sooner you’re oft the better, for Lord Belle- 
field, unless he is much belied, is not particularly famous for 
patience. You'll explain to him why Mr Lewis can’t do himself 
the pleasure of shooting him this morning, and you may add, with 
m}" compliments — Richard Frere’s, at your service — that it is better 
luck than he deserves. By the way,” he continmul, ” if you could 
give one a hint how to come by such a thing as a doctor, 1 should 
esteem it an additional favor.” 

‘‘ 1 will call at the residence of an English ph 3 "siciaD as soon as 1 
leave this house,” was the reply. ” Fortunatel 3 % one who is reck- 
oned very skillful resides within a tew doors.” 

‘‘That’s right,” returned Frere, ‘‘none of your foreign quacks 
for me. Doctors are bad enough all the world over, 1 dare say ; but 
an English one is a degree better than any of your homeopathic, 
mesmeric, clairvoyant humbugs. Al piacer di rewdetri, signore ; 1 
mean, lehen sie wohl, mein Herr, A mustachioed, laced and padded 
young puppy,” he continued, as with a haughty bow and a puzzled 
expression of countenance, the 3 ^oung Austrian quitted the apart- 
ment. ‘‘ Can’t be content with cutting throats himself without en- 
couraging his neighbors to go and shoot at one another! 1 hale a 
fellow who will be a second in a duel as 1 hate a professional hang- 
man. I’d half a mind to let poor Lewis strangle him — a foreigner 
more or less is no g*^eat matter.” 

The physician’s opinion coincided with that of Richard Frere. 
Overwrought both in mind and body, Lewis liad been attacked by 
a fever of the most viiulent nature, and every resource that the 
science of medicine afforded appeared powerless to subdue it. JNight 
and day Richard Frere sat by the sick man’s bedside, listening with 


LEWIS AEUKDEL. 


455 


an aching heart to his fevered ravings. Now, for the first time, did 
he become aware of tiie depth and strength ot that passion which. 
Jiaviug destroyed its victim’s peace of mind, seemed about to finish 
its work of devastation by sapping the very springs ot life itself. 

In his delirium the idea appeared to have fixed itself in Lewis’s 
imagination that the duel had taken place and that Lord Bellefield 
had perished by his hand, and the agonized expressions which his 
remorse forced from him were painful to listen to. Occasionally he 
would appear to forget even this, and imagining himself in the 
presence ot her he loved, would breathe forth expressions of the 
deepest tenderness, when suddenly the recollection of his supposed 
guilt would flash across him, and, upbiaidiug himself in the bitter- 
est terms, he would exclaim that a tar existed betw^een them, and 
declare himself a murderer, accursed before God and man. And so 
the weary days wore on, and the sufferer grew paler and weaker, 
while still the fire which was consuming his yoiftig life burned 
fiercely as at first. 

^The day following the night of Lord BelleSeld’s death was a re- 
markable one, for it witpessed the assassination ot the unfortunate 
JVIarinovich, whose courage and strong sense of duty forbade him 
to desert his post, even in order to preserve his life. This act ot 
dastardly revenge heralded the revolt in Venice. The Palazzo 
Grassini was, as may be supposed, the scene of much alarm and 
anxiety. General Grant and Leicester had been toiled in their at- 
tempt to trace the after proceedings ot the party who had kidnapped' — 
Lord Bellefield, nor w^as any light thrown upon his mysterious dis- 
appearance until another night and day had elapsed, when, in con- 
sequence of a high reward offered by the family to any person who 
could afford information in regard to the affair, an individual in the 
garb of a gondolier sought an interview with General Grant. This 
worthy (who was none other than Jacopo, the bravo whose stiletto 
had so nearly proved fatal to Lew is) having bargained for tlie prom- 
ised reward and for a free pardon for bis own share in the transac- 
tion, confessed that be and certain ot his associates had be(‘n engaged 
by an Englishman named Hardy, with whom be had been for some 
months acquainted, to carry oft a gentleman against whom Hardy, 
for some reason, appeared to nourish a deep revenge; that this gen- 
tleman had been staying at the Palazzo Grassini, and tbrt Hardy 
having pointed him out to him, he (Jacopo) had watched him the 
whole evening, and finding he remained abroad so late, had arranged 
to waylay him as he returned home, and succeeded in his design, 
though the plan was near being frustrated by the unespecled ab- 
sence of Hardy, who, however, joined them at the last moment. 

He then communicated those details of the enterprise with w?^hicti 
the reader is already acquainted, up to the time when he lift Hardy 
and Lord Bellefielii alone in the ruined convent, beyond which be 
either was, or affected to be ignorant in regard to the affair. The 
clew thus gained was, however, sutficienl. Led by Jacopo to the 
room in which the duel bad taken place, the general and Leicester 
soon found their worst fears realized. The body lay covered with 
a cloak on which was pinned a paper, written by Hardy before the 
duel, statiug his intention of forcing Lord Bellefield to a mortal com- 
bat, adding that when that paper was found, either one or both of 


456 LEWIS ARUNDEL. 

them wo\ild have gone to their long account. At Uie bottom was 
scrawled in pencil: 

“ 1 have kept my word; he brought his fate upon his own head 
— no one had any hand in his death but myself. lie fell in fair 
fight, having wounded me severely, but, as 1 think, not mortally. 

(Signed) “ Miles hAiiDv. ” 

All Leicester’s early afiection for his brother was brought back 
by his dreadful fate, and he wept over his corpse like a woman. 
The general shuddered slightly when his eye first perceived the 
expression of rage and hatred stereotyped on tbe rigid features ot 
the dead man’s face, then his brow contracted and his mouth grew 
stern, as he turned to issue directions for the murderer’s apprehen- 
sion. Whether, being Italians, the police looked upon manslaugh- 
ter with a favoring eye, or whether the disturbed state of the city 
facilitated hi^ eseapa^ certain it is, that Miles Hardy contrived U) 
evade the search^mtde for him, and after oftering large rewards for 
his apprehension, and using every other means in his power to s^u- 
ulate the exertions of the police. General Gjmt was fain to rest Mit 
isfied that he had done all which the stlftfest sense of duty could 
demand at his hands. Perhaps, as the memory ot the scene he had 
witnessed by poor Jane Hardy’s death bed recurred to him, and he 
thought of the cruel provocation her brother had received, even the 
stern old soldier might be glad that he had not been called upon to 
condemn Miles to an ignominous and cruel death. 

The feeifngs both of Laura and Annie when they became ac 
fpiainted with this frightfful catastrophe, may easily be imagined. 
From Laura it was impossible to conceal it, for unused as he was to 
deep emotion of any kind, her husband’s grief was for the time so 
overpowering, that he completely lost all self-control, and it was 
only by the judicious exercise ot her good sense and tenderness, 
that she was enabled to restore him to anything like composure. 
Nor had she a much easier task with Annie," for a superstitious but 
not unnatural dread seized her lest (her earnest desire to avoid a 
union with Lord Bellefield having been thus fearfully accomplished) 
she might be in some degree morally guilty. But Laura, tender. 
Kind, judicious Laura, with her man’s head and her woman’s heart, 
(a rare alliance constituting human perfection), argued and soothed, 
and coaxed and reasoned, until Annie’s self-upbraiding horror yield 
cd to her gentle persuadings, as did ot old the demon which tor- 
mented 8aul to the melody of David’s harp— and indeed there is on 
earth no music sweeter than a loving woman's voice. 

During all this time poor Waller found himself sadly neglected. 
Alter the affair at the Casino, Mr. fepooner, ignorant ot Lewis 
Arundel’s illness, and tearful that he would keep his word and in- 
form General Grant of the shameful manner in which he had be- 
trayed his trust, found some plausible excuse for resigning his sit- 
uation and returning to England, at the general’s exj)ense, before 
any exposure should take place. So he wrote himselt a letter an- 
nouncing the death of his mother (at that moment driiiking brandy 
and water in the bar of an hotel in Birmingham, whereof she was 
landlady), and leaving three orphan sisters (invented for the occa- 
sion) solely dependent on him for eteryiliing ^ which epistle answered 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


457 

his purpose very nicely. After his departure, Walter was left pret- 
ty much to his own devices, and one of his chief amusements was 
drilling and talking to Faust, for whom all his old fondness had re- 
vived since the interview in which he had made up his quarrel with 
Annie. He was therefore especially annoyed and perplexed by a 
habit which the dog lately had acquired of absentinir himself every 
day for several hours. V arious were the schemes Walter laid to dis- 
cover what became of the animal, but by some fatality they all 
failed to effect their object, and the cause of the dog’s absence, as 
well as the node in which he contrived to effect his egress, still re- 
mained a mystery. At length one evening as Walter was sitting at 
a window of the Grassini Palace which looked into a small court- 
yard, or garden, inclosed by a high wall, his attention was attracted 
by observing something, which, in the short glimpse he had of it 
appeared like an animal’s head, pop up above the wall and disappear 
again. Watching the spot carefully, Walter soon witnessed a repe- 
tition of the phenomenon, but this time a rough hairy body and 
legs followed the head, and after a slight scramble t^e delinquent, 
Faqst himself, made his appearance on the top of the wall, which 
wa» sufficiently broad to afford him a precarious fooling. He then 
deliberately but with great caution, walked along the narrow cause- 
way thus afforded, until he reached a spot where the limb of an old 
tree grew so as nearly to touch the wall. Upon this he got, and 
contrived, by a mode of progression, half slipping, halt clambering, 
to arrive at a point whence he could easily junjp to the ground. All 
these inaneuvers Walter carefully noted^ and formed his plan ac- 
cordingly. The boy’s curiosity, we continue to use the term boy, 
for although in age and appearance poor Walter w^as now almost a 
man, in mind he was still far younger than his years, in spite of 
those occasional flashes of intelligence so often to be observed in 
cases of partial mental imbecility, which render a just estimate of 
ihe individual capacity so difficult to arrive at— Walter’s curiosity, 
we repeat, w’as thoroughly aroused by this discovery, and he deter 
mined if possible, to find out the nature and object of Faust’s clan- 
destine expeditions. That he had some definite object alter never 
for a moment doubted, for he had so completely made a friend and 
companion of the dog, that he had learned to look upon him much 
more as a reasonable being than as an animal guided only by an en- 
lightened instinct. 

For the rest of that day, and from an early hour on the following 
morning, Walter never lost sight of the dog, though he contrived 
to ellect his purpose without interfering with its liberty of action. 
At length his patience was rewarded by seeing Faust enter the gar- 
den and begin to scramble up the identical tree, by means of which 
he had effected his descent on the previous day. Seizing his hat, 
Walter lost no time in following him. The tree was easr to climb, 
and the same branch which had aff ardel a passage for Faust, ena- 
bled Walter to reach the top of the wall in safety. On the other 
side the difficulties were still less, for the ruins of some ancient build- 
ing lay scattered in all directions, and a pile of them actually came 
within a fevt feet of the top of the wall, forming a rough but 
efficient flight of steps. By the time Walter regained term firma, 
however, Faust bad proceeded some distance, and had he chosen to 


458 


LEWIS AKUNDEL. 


run on still hnve preserved his secret inviolate. But when 

TV alter called him he stepped, and waited till his friend approached, 
thouirh neither threats nor endearments could prevail upon him to 
turn back, or to allow Walter to come near enough to lay hold of 
him. And so the pair proceeded, Faust running on tor a short dis- 
tance, wailing till Walter drew near, and then resuming his course. 
Tlie route the dog pursued avoided the more frequented ways, and 
AY alter began to think Faust was merely taking a stroll tor the ben- 
efit of his constitution, when the animal suddenly turned down an 
archway, and looking back to see that his friend followed, proceed- 
ed along a narrow alley which led into one of the smaller streets, 
and stopped at the door of a house which projected be>ond some of 
the others. Thi; door stood ajar, and Faust without ceremony pushed 
it further open and walked in. Walter paused, debating as well as 
his mental capacity enabled him to do, whether or not he should 
venture to follow. It was a knotty point to decide. On the one 
hand his fears urged him to turn back and not risk facing the possi- 
ble dangers which might lie hidden wu'thin this mysterious mansion. 
Curiosity, on the other hand, prompted him to enter and discover 
at once and forever the aim and end of Faust’s incomprehensible 
visits. Fear was very nearly gaining the dayl when, in thinking 
over every possible motive, probable or improbable, which might 
influence the dog, the bright idea flashed across him that perhaps 
Faust had discovered his former master, and the hope of again 
meeting his “ dear Mr. Arundel ” outweighing every other consid- 
eration, he boldly opened the door, and encountering Faust, who 
had returned to look tor him, followed that sagacious quadru^Ded up 
a flight of stairs. 

Now it so luppened, that the particular morning in question was 
that of the fourteenth day from the commencement of lewis’s ill- 
ness, and the physician had pronounced the crisis of the disease to 
be at hand. He had seen his patient late on the previous evening, 
and administered to him a powerful narcotic, from the effect of 
which he had not recovered when Walter and Faust commence il 
their ramble. Frere, who had sat up with him all night, had gone 
out to refresh himself with a short walk, leaving Lewis under the 
care of Antonelli, his old attendant. This worthy man had in his 
turn been called down to see, a friend, who having heard of the 
Signor Luigi's illness, had come to prescribe some uncomfortable 
remedy in the infallibility whereof his faith was an unshakable as 
his ignorance on all medical subjects was profound. Antonelli, 
whose grief at his patron’s danger had been overpowering, was 
easily interested in his friend’s account of the wonderful specific, 
and with the garrulity of age, remained discussing its merits for 
a much longer space of time than he was at all aware of. Thus it 
came about that VYaiter, when he had followed Faust upstairs, and, 
after a second fit of hesitation, entered an apartment through the 
partially open dour of which the dog had disappeared, found him- 
self in a room, in one corner of which stood a small iron bedstead 
whereon lay some person, who from bis deep, regular breathing 
seemed to be in a sound sleep. Cautiously, and with noiseless foot- 
steps, tne boy approached and gazed upon the sleeper, nor for a 
moment could he recognize, in the pale, worn face which met his 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


459 


view, the features of his “ dear Mr. Aruudel.’* But this dou^ 
speedily resolved when Lewis moved uneasily in his sleep, an 
tered some indistinct words, among which Walter caught tl 
of Annie. Two clear ideas now presented themselves to f 
mind: his friend was asleep and must not he roused, and f 
expression ot his features he must either be ill or unhappy, 
arrived at these conclusions, he proceeded to act upon them b 
ing himself at the bedside, to wait patiently till Lewis s^ 
awake, while he devoted all the powers ol his intellect to form s. 
theory by which to account for the change in his late tutor s appea. 
ance. As he thus sat anxiously watching, Lewis again turned rest- 
lessly, murmuring something, the meaning of which Walter could 
not catch, then speaking more distinctly, he said: 

“ She leaned upon his arm; she smiled on him; she loves him! 1 
saw it with my own eyesl’^ 

He said this so plainly, that Walter, fancying he must be awake, 
addressed him, and asked if he were ill. Lewis caught the sound 
of the words, and replied*. 

“ 111 in mind, Frere, nothing more.'’ 

Walter, still believing him to be awake, continued: 

“ It is 1, Walter, do you not know me?’ 

For a moment the sleeping man made no reply. Then, resuming 
the conversation which he imagined himself holding with Frere, he 
exclaimed eagerly: 

“ Love one man and engage herself to another? 1 tell you no! 
Annie Grant never loved me!’"’ 

At this moment, Faust, who had been lying quietly, and as if he 
were quite at home, on a rug by the bedside, roused by the sound 
of his master’s voice, placed his forepaws on the bed, and finding 
himself unnoticed, endeavored to attract attention by licking first 
the sick man’s hand and then his face. The effect of the opiate had 
by this time in great measure worn off, and roused by Faust’s in- 
trusive affection, Lewis awoke with a violent start, and attempting 
to raise himself to a sitting posturp, gazed around him in surprise, 
and fell back upon his pillow from weakness. After lying for some 
moments perfectly motionless, he again unclosed his eyes, and asaed 
in a low, faint voice: “ Am 1 dreaming still, or did I see Walter?” 

“No, you are awake now, dear Mr. Arundel: it is 1, Walter. 
Faust found you out, and brought me to see you.’* 

As Walter mentioned Faust, Lewis for the first time perceived 
his old favorite, and stretched out his hand with the intention of 
patting him, but the effort was beyond his strength, and his arm 
sunk powerless b}' his side. Faust, however, perceived the att u- 
tion, and acknowledged it by again licking his hand. Lewis turned 
his languid eyes from Walter to the dog, and a tear stole down his 
wasted cheek, then his lips grew compressed and an expression of 
anguish overspread his countenance. With consciousness had also 
returned bitter memories. In the meanwhile Walter, delighted at 
recovering his long-lost friend, grew loquacious in the fullness of his 
joy, and ran on in liis usual disconnected manner. 

“ So you haven’t forgotten Faust, then, Mr. Arundel? He has 
never forgotten you either, poor fellow! all the time you have been 
away; but I’ve taken great care ot him, you see— he’s nice and fat, 


400 


LVAXJS AlUTKPEL. 

he? WeVe been very good friends, too, only we used to 
•el sometimes when he would follow A.miie, and I did not like 
ause— because — Here he paused, having a confused recol- 
Ihat this was a subject on which he wanted to say something 
ar. After waiting tor a minute or two, his ideas grew in a 
clearer, and he continued: 

)u know 1 took a dislike to poor Annie because 1 thought she 
you go away. 1 always thought so until she told me it was 
ne case, and how fond she was of you.” 
vhen Walter first mentioned Annie's name Lewis stalled and 
cade a gesture to induce him to be silent, but the boy did not un- 
derstand his wishes, and his auditor soon became too much absorbed 
in the interest of his disclosures to seek a^ain to interrupt him. 

“ You were talking about Annie, just now, before you were quite 
awake,” resumed Walter, ” and you said she did not love you. 1 
remember I thought so too once, and that was the reason why you 
went away, and so 1 took a dislike to her, and would not let Faust 
follow her, only he would; but we were both quite wrong, for Annie 
is just as fond of you as Faust and 1 are, and novv I’ll tell you how 
1 came to find it out.” He then in his rambling way gave a child- 
ish but perfectly intelligible account of his conversation with Annie 
Grant, with which the reader is already acquainted. Just as he had 
finished his recital, Richard Frere returned from his walk in time 
to overhear the last few words of the history, and to discover that 
Lewis had fainted from intense emotion. 


CHAPTER LXllI. 

URSA MAJOR snows HIS TEETH. 

Walter’s visit to Lewis produced a more fav arable effect upon 
the patient’s health, than did all the pills and potions wherewith his 
doctor had sought to exorcise the fever -fiend. He had 7iot then de- 
ceived himself, Annie had loved him, nay, from AValter’s recital, as 
well as from her manner on the occasion of his protecting her 
through the crowd in the square of St. Mark’s, was he not justified 
in believing that she loved him still? The idea was in itself Happi- 
ness, for although the fact of her renewing her engagement with 
Lord Bellefield so immediately after Lewis had quilted Broadhurst, 
still remained unaccounted for, the hope that she loved him seemed 
to impart a new aspect to the whole affair, and for the first time he 
allow^ed himself to believe that her conduct might admit of some 
satisfactory explanation. The emotions of such a mind as fjcwis’s 
necessarily produce marked effects upon the body. Agitation of 
spirits had mainly conduced to bring on the fe^er which had thus 
prostrated him, and the hope to which Walter’s words had given 
rise, seemed to infuse new life into him. At all events, it is cer- 
tain, that from the moment in which he became convinced that 
Annie had loved him, he began to amend. As soon as Frere con- 
sidered him strong enough to bear such an announcement he in- 
formed him of the appaling fate which had overtaken his enemy. 
Lewis was at first strongly affected. But for events over which he 


LKWTS AKITNDEL. 


4r,i 


had had no control, he mi^iht now have been in the position of Allies 
Hardy, a wandtirei on the tace of the earth, bearing with himtlie 
harrowing consciousness that the blood of a fellow-cieatiiie was 
upon liis hands. After remaining in silent thought tor some min- 
utes he suddenly raised his eyes to his friend’s countenance. 

“Frere/’he said, “how can 1 ever be sufficiently grateful to 
God, who chose you as His instrument lo set my sin before me, ana 
bring me to a better frame of mind? Had this dreadful fate over- 
taken Bellefield without my having resolved not to fight him, 1 
should have felt morally guilty of his death, considering that it was 
a mere accident which had enabled Hardy to meet him sooner than 
myself.” 

“ You acted rightly under circumstances which I mast confess 
to have afforded about as severe a trial to a man of your impetuous 
nature as could w^ell be conceived,” returned Frere; “so it is but 
fair that you should reap some advantage from your self-conquest. 

1 pity poor young Hardy more than 1 blame him, for he has proba- 
bly never been taught the truths of Christianity, and nothing else 
could have possessed sufficient power over him to induce him to 
forego his revenge. Ah! if such men as Bellefield could but be 
made to see the mental agony their vices cause to others, even their 
selfish hearts would be touched, and they would be unable to go on 
sinning with such callous indifference; hut in their selfishness, they 
look only to the gratification of their own passions, and ignore all 
possible results which might tend to interfere with them. Such a 
career as Bellefield ’s is a fearful and inexplicable mystery to reflect 
upon, and it is only by a high exercise of faith that we can believe 
even Omnipotence able to bring good out of such consistent and 
unmitigated wickedness.” 

“ And is such your belief?” inquired Lewis, earnestly. 

“ Most assuredly it is,” was the reply. “ 1 am not one of those 
who acknowledge their God’s attributes with their tongues, but in 
their hearts practically deny them; nor can 1 believe that a Being, 
the perfection of wisdom, of justice and of mercy, could allow evil 
to exist, were He not able to overrule it to good; but if you ask me: 

‘ How can these things be?’ 1 tell you at once 1 /io not know. 1 
form no theory on the subject, tor 1 have no power to do so; my 
mind is that of a weak, fallen man, and the secret things of God are 
so immeasurably above it that to speculate upon them is equally 
presumptuous and absurd. 8till, 1 feel as certain of the main fact, 
as it each special detail of the Divine scheme lay spread out like a 
map before me: because, were it not so, God would falsify His at- 
tributes; the great Being we worship would be, not a merciful 
Father, but a stern, inexorable Judge. Depend upon it, Lewis, the* 
real fallacy in the religious teaching of the present day is, that prac- 
tically, if not theoretically, tear rather than love is inculcate il as the 
actuating principle, and as a natural consequence, men ignore and 
put aside thoughts of futurity, as they pul aside any other painful 
and alarming reflection.” 

As Frere concluded, Lewis paused in thought, then observed: 

“ All you have said sounds wise and true, and yet there appears 
a contradiction somewhere. Evil must always be hateful to God, 


402 LEWIS ARUSTDEL. 

and as such must deserve everlasting punishment. 1 can not under- 
stand it.” 

” Nor do 1 wish or expect you to do so,” replied Frere; ‘‘ but can 
not you wait patiently through a little space— the life of one man, 
trusting that when this mortal shall have put on immortality our 
enlarged faculties may enable us to see clearly that which we now 
believe as a matter of faith? The only difficulty arises fiom your 
attempting to measure things infinite with your finite intelligence. 
For instance, you talk of everlasting punishment — what do you mean 
by the term?” 

“ Mean, why, of course, punishment that shall endure through- 
out eternity,” replied Lewis. 

‘‘ And eternity, which to be eternal, can no more have had a be- 
ginning than it shall have an end, is an idea our minds can not 
grasp, and in attempting to define an! realize these things, we only 
contuse and mislead ourselves. Take my word for it, Lewis, true 
religion, the religion Christ came down from Heaven to teach men, 
consists in a true, sincere, and consistent belief in the goodness and 
benevolence of the Creator, carried out practically by an unceasing 
endeavor to reform our fallen natures after His image.” 

” And now are w’^e to gain the knowledge and the strength requi- 
site to enable us to do this?” asked Lewis. 

” By studying God’s written word with an honest intention of 
doing as we are there told to do, and imploring His assistance to 
enable us to carry out our good intentions,” was the earnest reply. 

So tor the time the conversation ended, but Lewis thought over 
the ideas thus presented to him, which, though not entirely new to 
him, or indeed to any other thiniting mind, had perhaps never be- 
fore occurred to him m a light so clear and practical as that in wdiich 
Frere had placed them, and as b}^ slow degrees his strength began 
to return, and with Antonelli’s assistance, he contrived to creep for 
an hour at a time to his painting-room, he arose ftom that couch of 
sickness a wiser and a better man. 

As soon as Charles Leicester had recovered from the first shock 
of his brother’s death lie determined to intrust his wdfe and child to 
the care ot General Grant, while he started for England to break the 
distressing intelligence to his father. Lord Ashford was now be- 
coming an old man, and although the profligate career of his eldest 
son had caused him the deepest anxiety and ngret, he still regarded 
him with much affection, and Leicester had only too good reason to 
dread the effect which might be produced upon him if, by any ac- 
cident, he were to he made aware of the fatal event without suffi- 
cient preparation. Accordingly, on the second day after the discov- 
ery of the catastrophe, he quitted Venice, and traveled day and 
night till he reached England; but fast as he journeyed ttie evil tid- 
ings journeyed still more swiftly. A rumor of llie truth had some- 
how found its way to the London clubs. At one to wdiich he be- 
longed Lord Ashford had accidentally overheard the affair discussed, 
and while uttering a half-frantic inquiry as to the speaker’s author- 
ity, was seized with a fit, from which he recovered only to remain a 
heart-broken man, paralyzed and childish. Charles, finding him in 
this state, was ot course unable to leave him, and wrote to Laura to 
beg that no unnecessary delay might occur, to prevent her joining 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


4C:] 

him as soon as possible. Under these circumstances General Grant 
resolved to proceed to England at once, with the party under his 
charge. 

When Frere’s anxiety for Lewis’s life had ended, and he felt wsat- 
isfied that he was on the road toward recovery, and might safely be 
intrusted to the care of Antonelli, he had made his way to the Pa- 
lazzo Grass! ni, and seeking an interview with General Grant had 
explained to him the object which had brought him to Venice, 
together with the train of events which had hitherto prevented his 
announcing his arrival. He gave an account of the fracas between 
Lord Bellefield and Lewis at the Casino, and his friend’s subse- 
quent self-conquest, in resolving for conscience’ sake to forego his 
revenge; but he said nothing of Lewis’s attachment to Annie, feel- 
ing tliat he had no right to betray his confidence to the general, 
w thout personally obtaining his consent to the measure. 

General Grant was much interested by this recital, and praised 
Lewis’s conduct througliout the whole affair — the sliock of Lord 
Bellefield’s death having taken away any little prejudices in favor 
of dueling, which might have lingered in the chivalrous mind of 
the old soldier. He thought, however, that considering the relative 
positions of the different parties, it would be better for him not to 
visit Lewis so soon after the awful catastrophe which had taken 
place, but he sent him a kind message by Frere, saying he should 
ho[>e to see him on his return to England, and thanking him for his 
inteiference in Walter’s behalf. 

On the morning previous to that fixed for the departure of Laura 
and her friends Lewis, having overexerted himself ihe day before 
by painting foi several hours, and having paid the penalty^ by lying 
awake during a great part of the night, had fallen into a deep sleep 
which lasted so long, that Frere having breakfasted, and given 
orders that Lewis was on no account to be disturbed, went out. He 
had undertaken with his usual good nature, innumerable commis- 
sions tor the general. These he set to work diligently to execute, 
and after wandering up and down the lanes and squares of Venice, 
now trudging like an excited postman, now sitting bolt upright in 
the stern of a gondola with the cotton umbrella spread like a gigan- 
tic mushroom over his head to keep off the sun, he arrived, hot and 
tired, at the Palazza Grassiui. General Grant was from home, so 
Frere left a card saying he would call again later in the afternoon. 
Then, thinking, on second thoughts, that it would not be kind, as 
he had been out so long, to leave Le^is again on the same day, he 
altered his determination, and desiring to be shown into the library, 
sent a message to ask to be allowed to speak to Mrs. Leicester, or to 
Miss Grant. Now, the servant to whom this message was intrusted, 
being, like many of his betters, averse to needless trouble and chanc- 
ing to encounter Annie, as he was pioceeding from the library to 
the drawing-room, saw fit slightly to alter the tenor of his message, 
and leaving out all mention of Laura, informed Miss Grant, that a 
geut]emaa"()t the name of Frere, having called to visit the general, 
had, on learning ttiat he w^as from home, asked to be allowed to see 
her. This intelligence sligh;ly flurried Annie, Frere being alw^ays 
connected in her mind with the idea of Lewis, and it was not with- 


464 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


out a decree of trepidation, which mantled her cheek with a most 
becoming blush, that she Hastened to comply witli his summons. 

When Frere perceived who it was that his message had produced, 
a scheme, which had su^rgested itselt to him as a vague possibility, 
as he had sat b}^ Lewis’s bedside, listening to the ravings of his de- 
hriuin, now recurred to his mind as a right and advisable step, which 
it behooved him to take, now that chance had throvvn the oppor 
tunity in his way. His first business, however, was to deliver him- 
self of the commissions intrusted to him by the general. Having 
relieved his mind of the weight of this responsibility, he began: 

‘ Well, Miss Grant, I’m glad to see you looking belter than you 
were. 1 suppose it’s the (having got rid of your detestable en- 
gagement, was his original sentence, but he checked himself, and 
substituted) idea of getting avray from this horrid place, all paddles 
and palaces, the men eveiy one of them either a tyrant, or a slave, 
and such lazy rascals into the bargain; the women not at all the 
style of female to talk to you about, and without any particular 
beauty to account for it either, as far as I’m a judge, though per- 
haps in my present position I’m a little bit over-tastidious; but then 
Rose Arundel is as near perfection as anything on this earth can 
be, but I’m forgetting you don’t know anything of Ibe matter, and 
all that I’m saying must be high Dutch, or thereabouts to you.’' 

And having by this time talked himself into a regular entangle- 
ment, the worthy bear came to a sudden and unexpected stand-still. 
Annie hastened to relieve him. 

“ You have, indeed, let me into a secret, Mr. Frere,” she said, 
smiling; ‘‘ but it is quite sate in my hands, and it is a secret, more- 
over, which 1 am delighted to hear. There is no one in whose hai>- 
piness 1 take deeper interest than in that of dear Rose Arundel, and 
1 quite approve of the step you hiut at, as being likely to secure it. 
You must allow me to offer you my warmest congratulations.” 

” 1 thank ye, thank 5 m,” returned Frere, looking most comically 
bashful, and routing his hair about insanely in his embarrassment. 
*' I certainly do hope to make her happy, God bless her, though 1 
don’t think you can judge much about it, one wav or other, seeing 
that 1 may be a bear in reality, (she calls me one in f im, you know), 
meaning to eat her up bodily for aught you can teb. As to its being 
much of a secret, too many people know it, too many women in 
particular-, to render that possible; so, though 1 don’t want it an- 
nounced in the ' Times/ till the event actually crimes off , you need 
not put any vio'ent constiaint upon your natural communicative- 
ness, for 1 am not so ignorant of the idiosyncrasies of the fair sex, 
as to forget the pain and grief constrained silence occasions them.” 

Annie made a playful rejoinder, and then after a minute’s pause 
ventured timidly to ask “1 hope Mr. Arundel continues to gain 
strength. I, that is, my father, and, indeed, all of us were so grieved 
to hear of his illness.” 

Frere fixed his large eyes upon hers, as he replied, gruffly: “ Yes, 
be s getting on w^ell enough for anything 1 know to the contniry; 
but he's as weak as a child. It will be months before he becomes 
anything like the man he avus again. He’s been most unpleasantly 
near supplying a vacancy' in some moist grave-yard of this amphibi- 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 465 

0U8 city; small thanks to those who helped to bring him to such a 
condition.” 

Annie turned very pale at this somewhat unfeeling speech, but 
she managed to slammer out: “ 1 thought, that is, we were told 
lhat it was a fever produced by exposure to malaria, from which Mr. 
Arundel had suffered.” 

” A fever it was, and no mistake,” was the reply, ” such a fever 
as 1 should be very soiry to fall in the way of catching, 1 can tell 
you.” 

‘‘ Ana yet you have nursed him through it with most unceasing 
selt-devotion. You see I know you belter than you are aware of, 
Mr. Frere,” interrupted Annie, with a beaming smile. 

“Nursed him, why of course 1 did; if 1 hadn’t, 1 should have 
deserved to be well kicked,” returned Frere, in atone of intense dis- 
gust. “ I’ve known Lewis ever since he was a pretty black-eyed boy 
of ten years old, and though he is a little hot-headed and impetuous 
sometimes, that’s no reason why 1 should leave him to die of a fever 
in a foreign land, tar away from those that love him. A nice sort 
of a friend 1 should be it 1 did, and a pretty figure 1 should cut the 
next time I came in Rose’s way. She is not one of those that care 
about people b}^ halves, 1 can tell you; why, she actually dotes on 
her brother.” 

“ Oh! 1 am sure she does; it was that which first made me love 
her,” exclaimed Annie, with enthusiasm. Then, seeing all that her 
speech involved, she blushed “ celestial rosy red,” and cast down 
her eyes in confusion. 

“ llumph!” grunted Frei’e, “ that sounds all very nice and amia- 
ble, but 1 prefer deeds to words. I’ll tell you what it is, ]\Iiss 
Grant,” he continued, addressing Annie, “ you talked about malaria 
being the exciting cause of Lewis’s illness, it was no such thing — 
the cause of his fever was anguish of mind — the poor boy’s been 
miserable for the last two years, almost crazy with grief, as 1 take 
it, for he has been doing all sorts of wild, uncomtortable things; 
and, if truth must be told, it strikes me it’s more your fault than 
any one else’s?” 

“ My fault!” exclaimed Annie, her face and neck flushing crim- 
son, at this unexpected charge, “ oh, Mr. Frere, how can you speak 
such cruel words?” 

“Because they happen to be true ones, young lady,” returned 
Frere, slernly. “ You are the daughter of a rich man, and a man 
in a high station, and i or that reason, it’s very seldom you have the 
plain, honest truth spoken to you; but 3^ou shall learn it to day 
from my lips, if you never heard it before in your life, and if it is 
not palatable, the fault will not rest with me. 1 knew something 
of this affair, when Lewis quitted Broadhurst all in a hurry, two 
years ago, and 1 set it down as a foolish bit of boyish romance, that 
a few months’ absence would cure, but it was not till 1 watched 
by his bedside, and listened through the solemn hours of the night 
to his- frenzied ravings, that 1 became aware that the passion he felt 
for you was rooted in his very heart’s core, and saw that by his 
deep, his overpow’ering love for one, w^ho 1 tear was not worthy of 
him, he had shipwrecked the happiness of a life-time. Silence!” 
he continaed, angrily, as Annie, halt rising from her seat, seemed 


466 


LEWIS ARUlsDEL. 


about to interrupt him, “ silence! you have voluntarily or involun- 
raiily, been the cause of deep misery to the two people (for Rose has 
suffered greatly on her brother's account) for whom 1 care most in 
the world, and you shall learn before we part the evil consequences 
ot your acts, and tell me whether you possess either the will or the 
power to repair thera.^* 

Annie again attempted to speak, but finding her accuser would 
not listen tu her, sunk back with a gesture of despair, while Frere 
continued: 

“ Very early in his residence at Broadhurst Lewis, as 1 imagine, 
became attached to you, though tor a long time he would not 
acknowledge the fact even to himself. At length, however, it be- 
came impossible for him to deceive himself, and then began the 
struggle between his pride and his affection, and from that period 
to the hour in which he quitted Broadhurst, he lived in a state of 
mental torture. Well; 3^011 could not help his tailing in love with 
3 'ou, 3 "ou will say, and because a poor tutor was bold and foolish 
enough to forget the difference of position between you, (which, by 
the w^ay, he never did for one moment, though the recollection was 
agony to his proud spirit), and to raise his eyes to his employer’s 
daughter, you were not bound to forget it also — 1 grant you that— 
but shall 1 tell you what you could have helped? (which 1 should 
never have known anything about, but icr poor Lewis’s delirious 
ravings), you could have helped saying and doing a hundred little 
nameless things, trifles in themselves perhaps, (so are straws, but 
they show which way the wind blows!) which gave the poor fellow 
the idea that you returned his affection, and that had he dared to 
declare his feelings, he might have obtained such a confession from 
3 mu; an attempt which he was too honorable to make, but rather, 
with an aching heart, tore himself away from Broadhurst, throwing 
up every prospect he then had in life. You might have helped this, 
]\Iiss Annie Grant, and if 3 mu had been worthy of the love of such 
a noble nature, you would have done so.” 

As Frere, completely carried awa 3 ^ by the excited feelings which 
his recapitulation of Lewis’s wrongs and sufferings had aroused, 
paused for breath, poor Annie, who during the latter portion of his 
harangue, had been utterly unable to restrain her tears, replied in a 
voice scarcely audible through emotion: 

” You cruelly misjudge me, Mr. Frere — most cruelly— and are 
making an unkind and ungenerous use ot knowledge, which it your 
friend had retained his reason, would never have been in your 
possession.” 

Frere felt the justice of this reproach, and moreover, the siglu of 
poor Annie’s tears appealed to his kindness of heart, and served to 
disarm his wrath. 

” Well, thiit is certainly true,” he said, “and if 1 have indeed 
misjudged 3 M)u, why- 1 can only say 1 am very sorry for it; at all 
events I need not have spoken so harshly and rudely to 3 'ou; but 
you see. Miss Grant, 1 feel ver 3 ' deepl 3 ^ about this mailer, and the 
idea that all which Lewis has suffered should have been the conse- 
(pience ot 3 ^our love of admiration, and idle coquetry, made me an- 
gry wMth you.” 

” Indeed— indeed, 1 am no coquette,’' murmured poor Annie. 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 467 

“ Well, you seem to have behaved like one at all events,'* leturned 
Frere, “ unless, indeed,” he continued as a new li^lit suddenly 
broke in upon him, “ unless, indeed, 5^011 do by any chance care 
about Lewis as much as he cares about you. Of course, in that 
event, you would be more to be pitied than blamed.” 

He paused; then, after a moment’s reflection, continued: “But 
no, that can not be either. If you had really loved Lewis, you 
would scarcely have engaged yourself to another man before he 
had been out of the house tour-and-twenty hours. What do you 
say to that, eh! young lady?” 

Poor Annie! heavily indeed did her fault press upon her, most 
bitterly did she repent the weakness of character which had pre- 
vented her from refusing to engage her hand, when her heart was 
not with it, What could she say? Wiiy, she could only sob like 
an unhappy child, and whisper in a broken voice: ‘‘ 1 wilt send 
Laura to you — ask her, she knows ail— she can tell you.” And so 
running out of the room, she threw herself upon her friend’s neck, 
and begaed her incoherently and vaguely, to “ go immediately to 
and explain every Wnugy* ’ with which request Laura, when she 
had provided the solitary pronoun with a chaperon, in the shape of 
a concordant noun, an 1 restricted the transcendental ” everything ” 
to mean the one thing needful in that particular case, hastened to 
comidy. 

The commission was rather a delicate one, and the excel leiit bear 
did not render the execution thereof the less difficult, by choosing 
to take a hard-headed, moral and common-sense view of Annie’s 
conduct, which confused Laura to such a degree, that in her desire 
to be particularly lucid, she contrived to entangle the matter so 
thoroughly, that a person with a greater tact and more delicate per- 
ception than the rough and straightforward Frere, might have found 
the affair puzzling. 

‘‘ Well, I tell you what it is, Mrs. Leicester,” he at last exclaimed, 
abruptly. ” If you were to talk to me till midnight, which seeing 
you’ve a long journey before you to-morrow, would be equally 
fatiguing and injudic’ous, you would never be able to convince me 
that your young friend acted wisely. The idea of accepting that 
nnliappy man (whose death, between ourselyes, was a gain to every- 
body but himself, though, of course, I shall not say so to poor 
Charles, who, in his amiability, contrived to have a sort of fondness 
tor his brother;; but the notion of accepting him to prevent anybody 
guessing she was in love with Lewis, seems to me about the most 
feeble-rninded expedient that ever occurred to the imagination, even 
of a woman; it’s like cutting one’s throat to cure a sore finger, i 
don’t admire the principle of judging actions by their results, or 1 
should say the result of this has been just what 1 should have ex- 
pected, namely, everybody has been made miserable. However, 
though she has done a foolish thing, that is a very different thing 
from doing a deliberately wickerl one. So 1 suppose we must no't 
be too hard upon her, poor little thing. 1 dare say Lewis, at all 
events, will be magnanimous enough to overlook it, in con^^idera- 
lioii of her correct taste in properly appreciating his good qualities. 
However, Idl do my best to explain the matter to him, and put it 
in as favorable a light as my conscience will let me. And so wishing 


4G8 


LEWIS AnUNLEL. 


\oii a good journey, I’ll be off. 1 have a notion it won’t be very 
long before Lewis and 1 shall follow you. We shall not be many 
hours in England before we beat up your quarters, depend upon it. 
Lewis will have some siramre revelations to make to General 
Grant, that will cause his venerable locks to stand on end in amaze- 
ment. Ah! it's a queer world. Well, good-bye, Mrs. J.eicesier. 1 
expect you and I should become good friends in time, though 
you’re quite mistaken if you fancy that young woman acted sen- 
sibly in accepting her scampish cousin when all the time she was in 
love with another man.” 

And so Richard Frere fairly talked himself out of the house, 
leaving Laura especially astonished at his brusquerie, and decidedly 
of opinion that she had mismanaged the affair, and done her friend’s 
cause irreparable injury. 

In the meantime, Lewis having a-woke from his long sleep, and 
finding himself all the better and stronger for his nap, had just 
breakfasted with much appetite, when Antonelli appeared and 
handed him a note. It was from Laura, (written before her inter- 
view with Frere,) informing him of their intended departure on the 
morrow, begging him to call upon her immediatel j on his return to 
England, winch, as soon as his health would permit, she advised 
him to do without loss of time, and winding up with a hint that, 
in regard to the matter which especially interested him, he might 
make himself quite easy, tor that everything could be most satis- 
factorily explained. 

Lewis read and reread the note. ” The matter that especially 
interested him!” That could have but one meaning. Oh, yes! 
Annie had cleared herself— she had never accepted Lord Bellefield, 
or, if she had, she had been cheated into doing so. Annie was good 
and true— the Annie of his imagination — the bright, fair, loving, 
gentle being his soul worshiped. But he must have certainty, he 
must not again be the dupe of his own wishes; no, he must have 
certainty and he must have it at once. Wait till his return to Eng- 
land? Why, that might be days, weeks hence! And was he all 
that time to suffer the tortures ot suspense? It was not to be 
thought of. lie must see Laura before her departure, and learn the 
truth. But this would necessitate a visit to the Palazzo Grassini, 
in which he must run tlie chance of encountering the general or 
Annie. And as his thoughts reverted to her, the idea, tor the first 
time, occurred to him, of the mental suffering she must have under- 
gone, if, as he now believed, she had indeed truly loved him, and 
been in some manner forced by circumstances to consent to the en- 
gagement with her cousin. Then he remembered the scene in the 
square of St. Mark’s, and a sense of the cruelty of his own conduct 
toward her overwhelmed him. This decided the question.. He 
w’ould, at all risks, see Laura, and if — as he now w^ould not for a 
moment doubt — her explanation proved satisfactory, he would en- 
treat her to obtain Annie’s forgiveness. She must forgive him, 
when she came to know all he had suffered — when she heard how 
ill he had been, and as he thought of his illness, the somewhat per- 
plexing question occurred to him: How was he to reach the Palaz- 
zo Grassini in his present weak state? Nevermind; where there 
was a will there was a way. He wmld do it, he wa6 determined, 


LEWIS AnUKDEL. 


4G9 


and so he summoned Antonelli, and to the alarm of that wortiiv 
man, who fancied tlie fever had again flown to the brain, and that 
his beloved master was delirious, announced that he was going out 
to pay a visit, and requested his assistance in dressing himself. 

It was not lill his toilet was completed, and he attempted to walk 
down-stairs, that he became aware how weak and helpless his ill- 
ness had left him, and it required all his resolution to persevere in 
his expedition. Luckily the distance was short, and he was enabled 
to perform some of it in a gondola; still, by the time he reached 
the Palazzo Grassini, his strength was so completely exhausted, 
that it he had been required to proceed a hundred yards further, he 
would have been unable to accomplish the task. Having inquired if 
Mrs. Leicester was at home, and receiving an answer in the afflrm- 
ative, he continued: 

“ Then show me at once up to her boudoir, Iwill hold )^ou blame- 
less lor doing so.’' 

Ihe servant, who knew how intimate Lewis had been there, be- 
fore the coming of the Grant party, and how his visits had ceased 
with their arrival, naturally enough conjectured that the young 
painter was for some reason desirous to avoid encountering any of 
the general’s family, and complied with his request unhesitatingly. 
But the domestic in question, who chanced to be the same indivia- 
ual who had admitted Prere, was not aware of the additional, and 
to the parties concerned, somewhat important tact, that since he had 
performed that service. Miss Grant and his mistress had changed 
places, and that at the moment he was conducting Lewis to the 
boudoir, that apartment was tenanted by Annie Grant, while 
Laura was engaged in solemn conclave with Richard Frere in the 
library. Ihus it tell out that when the door of the boudoir was 
noiselessly opened, Arnie Grant, who had remained there alter she 
had dispatched Laura on her difficult mission to Ursa Major, and 
more majorum from the time of Fiobe downward, had indulged her 
feelings with a hearty cr3^ w as wiping her eyes, and trying to make 
herself believe that her troubles must be “ working to an end,” and 
that dim on the horizon of her future fate, there might be discerned 
a good time coming. Annie, thus pondering, and thus engaged, 
saw a tall, bending flgure enter, in whose well-knowm features, 
their expression softened and spiritualized by severe illness, she 
needed no announcement to recognize Lewis Arundel. 


CHAPTER LX17. 

RELATES HOW, THE ECLIPSE BEING OVER, THE SUN BEGAN TO 
SHIISE AGAIN. 

The windows of Laura’s boudoir were shaded from the burning 
rays of an Italian sun, by (literally) Yenetian blinds, which kept out 
not only the heat, but in great measure the light also, and Lewis, 
whose eyes were dizzy, and his head swimming from weakness, 
perceiving a female figure advancing toward him, naturally con- 
jectured it to be Laura, and accosted her as follows: 

“ You are no doubt surprised to see me here, but after perusing 
your note, 1 could not rest till 1 had learned the truth fiom your 


470 


LEWIS ALUKDEL. 


own lips, and as you are to quit Venice to-morrow, there was no 
tiiiie to lose, so 1 resolved, coute que coute, to make the eftort, and 
here 1 am.’" 

He paused toi a reply, but obtaining none, looked up in surprise, 
and perceived Annie Grant standing pale and trembling before him. 
Completely overcome by this unexpected encounter, he contrived to 
slammer aut: 

“ 1 beg pardon, 1 believed 1 was addressing Mrs. Leicester. 1 
must go and seek her,'^ and turned to put his design into execu- 
tion; but his strength was unequal to the task, and leaning against 
a marble slab he remained motionless, utterly unable to proceed. 
For a moment, Annie paused as if thunder-struck, then her woman’s 
heart aw^oke within her, and in an instant she was by his side, 
bringing a chair tor him to sit down. 

“ Oh! Mr. Arundel, how wrong, how mad of you to venture out,'’ 
she exclaimed, her anxiety for him overpowering every other leel- 
iijg, “you will bring on a return of the fever. Why, you are so 
weak that you can scarcely stand, pray sit down.” 

Advancing a step, Lewis took the chair from her, and leaning on 
llie back for support, said, with a faint smile: 

“ 1 have indeed somewiiat miscalculated my strength. Miss 
Grant. 1 am very, very weak,” and as he spoke he sunk upon the 
seat, while the bright blush, which the excitement of beholding 
Annie had called into his cheeks, faded to the most death-like pale- 
ness. His companion became alarmed. 

“ You are faint,” she said, “ let me ring for assistance.” 

A tray, with a decanter of water and some glasses stood iip>on a 
table near. Lewis’s eye tell upon them. 

“ it is merely the unaccustomed exertion,” he said, ” it will pass 
a w’ ay in a moment.’* 

Annie caught the direction of his glance. “ You would like a 
glass of w’ater,” she exclaimed, “ let me give you one.” and suiting 
the action to the word, she filled a glass with the sparkling liquid, 
and handed it to him. fie took it with a slight inclination of the 
head, drank it eagerly, and was about to rise, in order to put down 
the glass, when Annie, by a deprecating ceslure, pi evented liim, 
and taking it from his trembling fingers replaced it on the table. As 
she turned from doing so, their eyes met, and she perceived that his 
were fixed on her features with a deep, earnest, scrutinizing gaze, 
as though he strove to read in her countenance the history of her 
inner life. For a moment she met his gaze with a firm, truthful, 
unshrinking look. Then, unable to bear the power of tliat eagle 
eye, she turned away with a blush and a smile, fialf tender, halt 
reproachful, tor Annie was no stoic, and every feeling of her heart 
revealed itself in her tell-tale countenance. Lewds could bear it no 
longer— speak he must. 

“ Miss Grant — Annie,” be said, and as he pronounced her Chris- 
tian name, his deep voice trembled with suppressed emotion, “ wdien 
1 came here to-day 1 had no thought ot seeing you; but accident 
(it indeed, in this strange, complicated life anything may be so com 
sideied) has determined it otherwise, and the opportunity shall not 
be lost. Not very many days since, 1 was so grievously ill, that the 
chances were strongly against my rallying. It has pleased God to 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


471 


spare my life a little longer, but such an escape as this gives rise to 
deep and solemn thoughts. While 1 lay upon the bed of sickness, 
which h.'id so nearly proved the bed of death, 1 learned to read my 
own heart — my past life glided as it were in review before me, and 
my faults and errors, no longer hidden by the mists of self-deceit 
or of passion, revealed themselves clearly in the light of an awak- 
ened conscience. Above them all stood forth in its evil beauty, the 
master demon pride, and 1 saw how it had imbittered my whole 
existence, and how, if ever 1 hoped to obtain even peace of mind, 
much more happiness, 1 must relax no eftort until 1 had subdued 
it. Annie, 1 have loved you long; you can not, do not doubt it; 
but because I deemed you richer and of higher rank than myself, 1 
was too proud to own it to you. 

“ Years of mental torture have been my punishment. 1 do not 
complain that this should have been so, 1 do not impugn the justice 
of the decree; on the contrary, 1 acknowledge it with deep contri- 
tion. 1 sinned, and it was fitting 1 should pay the penalty, however 
bitter; but there was a grief 1 was not prepared for, and in which I 
could not discern retributive justice; tor whatever a slanderous 
world may say, my love for you has been deep, pure and disinter- 
ested, the truest, most earnest feeling of my inmost soul. Annie, 1 
will be frank with you, and even if my presumption ruins my cause, 
1 have suffered too much from concealment not to tell you the 
truth. When, distracted by my hopeless passion for you, and mad- 
dened by the insults of one who is now no more, 1 tore myself 
away from Broadhurst, and left you, as 1 deemed, forever, the most 
bitter pang proceeded from a secret belief, which even despair could 
not banish, that 1 read in your soft glances the assurance that had 1 
dared to urge my suit, 1 might have learned ] had not loved in vain, 
and in the midst of my desolation 1 was happy, deeply happy, in 
the thought. Then, a ray of light broke in upon the darkness, a 
strange chain of events led to the discovery that I was heir to an 
ancient and honorable name, and an ample fortune, and 1 W'aited 
but to obtain legal evidence of the fact, ere I hastened to tell you of 
my affection, in the fond hope of eliciting that 1 was beloved again 
— on(;p assured of that, 1 determined that nothing should prevent 
my winning your hand — all obstacles must yield before such a love 
as mine. With these feelings burning in my breast, imagine the 
dismay that overwhelmed me, on learning by a letter from your 
father, that scarcely twenty-four hours after 1 bad quilted Broad- 
burst, you, of your own free will, bad renewed your engagement 
with your cousin. Hear me out,” he continued, as Annie, who 
with blushing cheeks and tearful ej^es, had remained as though 
spell-bound, drinking in his everv tone, attempted eagerly to inter- 
rupt him, ” liear me out, and then if you can explain this mystery, 
the devotion of a life-time shall plead forgiveness for my haviug 
misjudged you. How 1 lived through the wretchedness that letter 
caused me, 1 do not know. I believed 1 was going mad, tor a time 
1 Idas mad, and railed at Heaven for having created a being so fair 
and false as then 1 deemed you. Obi the misery, the heavy, crush- 
ing grief, when the heart adores with all its faculty of loving one 
Whom tin; reason points out as light, fickle an(^ ^11 unworthy to b;^ve 
called tor til such true affection. For tvvo y^rs this black veii 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


472 

doubt and mistrust hung between your image and my spirit, 1 cast 
from me any idea of claiming the rank and riches that were my 
birthright, tor 1 valued them only as they could bring me nearer to 
you, and went forth a wanderer, tormented by the consciousness, 
doubly humiliaiing to one of my proud nature, that although 1 be- 
lieved you unworthy of my affection, 1 still loved you as devotedly 
as ever. The first person who won me from my gloomy thoughts, 
and led me to hope your conduct might be satisfactorily explained, 
was your kind friend Laura, who, in her honest singleness of heart, 
could not believe in the possibility of the fickleness of which 1 
imagined you guilty, and 1 (though her arguments failed to con- 
vince my reason), how I loved her for her belief! 1 could say much 
more, could tell you of the agony ct mind 1 endured, when, unseen 
by you, 1 watched you leaning on Jiis arm, and smiling upon him, 
and deemed my worst fears realized, and that you loved him; but it 
is needless — Annie, 1 can not look on you and believe you false; if 
indeed you ever loved me, 1 know that, despite appearances, you 
have been true to that affection, and that you love me still. Annie, 
dearest, tell me that it is so?” 

lie ceased, and with his hands clasoed, as those of some votary 
adoring his saint, sat gazing on the April of smiles and tears, I hat 
played over the expressive features of her he loved, until reading in 
her tender eyes the secret her lips refused to speaR, happiness lent 
him strength, and springing to her side, he drew her unresistingly 
toward him, and reproved the coral lips for their silence, by sealing 
his forgiveness upon them with a loving kiss. And as Annie, al- 
beit there is no reason to doubt that she was an exceedingly moral 
and well-conducted young lady, did not appear to discern any great 
impropriety in this act, but on the contrary, disengaged herself from 
his embrace gently and tenderly, the probubilities are, looking at the 
matter in a correct light, and with an artist eye (an optical delu- 
sion. popularly supposed lo fulfill one of the main duties of charity, 
b}^ clothing the naked), that the view she took of the affaw was a 
right one. And then by degrees, having declared that it was im- 
possible she could ever tell him anything about it, but that Laura 
knew, would not he go and ask Laura at once? a proposition I^ewis 
coolly but decitledly ignored, she contrived, she never knew how, 
to enable him to guess the truth, which he did very quickly and 
cleverly, and found so perfectly satisfactory, that his anger (such 
mild anger) instantly changed to the most unmitigated pity, an 
emotion so nearly akin to that other Christian virtue, love, that we 
fear we shall lay ourselves open to the charge of writing an actual 
love- scene, if we pursue the subject any further. And as it is a 
well-ascertained fact, that young persons strictly brought up, and 
never allowed to inflame their imaginations, and gain perverted 
views of life, by perusing those inventions of the enemy of man (and 
woman) kind, works of fiction, either never fall in love at all, or do 
so according to parental act of parliament, passed in the year one of 
the reign of good king Mammon, we (lest we incur the high dis- 
pleasure of any of this monarch’s respectable subjects) will say no 
more about it. But when Laura, grieved at what she cansidered 
the unsatisfactory issue of her interview with Richard Frere, re- 
turned to her boudoir to make l)ie best report her conscience would 


LEWIS AKUKDEL. 


473 


allow of fo Annie, she was especially surprised, and a little fri^dit- 
ened to discover her friend, with heightened color, downcast eyes, 
and a bright smile playing about the corners of her mouth, sitting 
on a sota by the side of what Laura would have taken for the ghost 
of Lewis Arundel, only that ghosts do not in a general way look so 
intensely happy, and are not usually addicted to holding young 
ladies’ hands caressingly between their spectral fingers. However, 
the ghost soon vindicated his claim to the protection of the liahem 
coriniH act, Dy rising and shaking Laura’s hand cordially, and tak- 
ing the Initiative in conversation, by exclaiming: 

“ My dear, kind Mrs. Leicester, 1 owe all my happiness to you.” 

Then Laura began to surmise what had happened, and in the ex- 
cess of her joy, "scolded Lewis so vigorously for his madness in 
venturing out, and Annie for her folly in allowing him to talk, that 
she was forced to slop in the midst of her harangue, to declare her- 
self a virago, and to laugh so heartily at her own vehemence, that 
in order to save herself from becoming hysterical, she was fain to 
betake herself to her own bedroom, and indulge in the feminine 
luxury of a good cry. And then Lewis and Annie sat and looked 
into each other’s eyes; their joy was too full for words, but such 
silence as theirs is far more eloquent, for as there is a grief too deep 
for tears, so is there happiness which language is ijowerless to ex- 
press, and such happiness did they experience at that moment. At 
length Lewis spoke. 

” Dearest,” he said, in a low, soft voice, that trembled with the 
tenderness which tilled his soul.” 1 must leave you now; there are 
many reasons which forbid my meeting your father till we reach 
England, and I am prepared to prove to him, all that your trustful, 
loving heart believes, because 1 tell you that it is so. Until we meet 
in our own happy country, which for the future will be as dear to 
me for your sake, as lately it has been for the same cause hateful, 
our engagement must remain a secret from all but Ijaura.” 

” But will that be right?” pleaded Annie, looking up wistfully 
into the face of him who would be from henceforth her oracle. It 
is a tearful responsibility when, through the affections, we gain 
such a hold over a living soul, that the judgment lies dormant, and 
the thing which seems good in our eyes appears so in theirs also. 
Such influence is indeed a mighty talent committed to our charge, 
and most careful should we be lest we abuse the trust reposed in us. 
Lewis felt this strongly, and paused to reconsider his decision. His 
chief reason lor wishing that General Grant might not be immedi- 
ately informed of his declaration, was the difficult position in wfliich 
it would place that gallant officer in regard to Lord Bellefleld’s re- 
lations. How could he, for instance, expect Lord Ashford to be- 
lieve that his brother-in-law had used all possible exeitiun to secure 
the murderer of his son, when Annie Grant, tJiat son’s destined 
bride, was atlianced to a man who, but for the catastrophe which 
had taken place, wmuld have met Lord Bellefield in a duel? and 
the altercation and subsequent challenge were so completely a mat- 
ter of notoriety in Venice, that it was certain that some account of 
them, probably an exaggerated and distorted one, would find its way 
to England. But this was a reason which he could not give Annie, 
as he correctly imagined the affair at the Casino had been kept from 


474 


LEWIS ARUN^DEL. 


her knowledge. Thus, the more he reflected the more certain he 
became that his original determination was a right one. Accord- 
ingly, he replied: 

“ Trust me, dearest, concealment is as foreign to my nature as to 
your own. My faults, and 1 have only too many, do not lie in that 
direction; but, to the best of my judgment, 1 believe that in wish- 
ing your father should, for the present, remain ignorant of our en- 
gagement, 1 am consulting your interest and his quite as much as 
my owii. Believe me, love, 1 would sacrifice anything, even the 
cherished hope of one day calling you my own, rather than influ- 
ence you to do aught for which your conscience could afterward 
upbraid you/’ 

And Annie did believe him, with the strong, unhesitating faith 
of perfect love. Had he advanced the most incredible assertion, 
declared, lor instance, that he had discovered perpetual motion, 
squared the circle and set the Thames on fire, Annie would equally 
and implicitly have believed him. Had he deceived her, her only 
refuge from an universal skepticism would have been to die. Then 
came the “ sweet sorrovv^ ” of a lover’s parting, sweet in the many 
evidences of affection which the occasion calls forth, and sorrowful 
by reason of the anxious thoughts to which quitting those we love, 
even under the happiest auspices, necessarily gives rise. And An- 
nie’s bright eyes were dim with tears, and Lewis’s mouth, no longer 
sternly compressed, trembled with the emotion he in vain attempted 
to conceal, as, with a murmmied “ God bless and protect you, my 
own darling!” he tore himself away. 

In the meanwhile scarcely had Kichard Frere quitted the Grassini 
Palace, than he encountered General Grant, fretting and fuming 
under the weight of a burden of minor miseries, and lull of com- 
plaints of the abominable misdemeanors of the Venetian officials, 
among which, by no means the lightest was the culpable stupidity 
which prevented them from speaking or understanding English, to- 
gether with the obstinate prejudice with which they refused to ac- 
knowledge, that by adding the letter O to the termination of words 
in that language, they immediately became Italian. 

‘‘ I said: ‘ Requiro unopaasporto ’ to them, sir, half a dozen times 
over, and nobody shall ever make me believe they did not know 
what that meant!” was his indignant complaint. 

Of course, Frere’s ready sympathy entailed on him a request that 
if he could spare the time to go back to the office with him, the 
general would esteem it such a great favor, and of course, though 
his conscience reproached him for being away from ” poor solitary 
Lewis ” for so many hours, he did what was required of him; and 
of course, having said A — B, C and D followed as a matter of ne- 
cessity; until, before he had gone through the alphabet of the gen- 
eral’s commissions, several hours had elapsed, and Lewis, having 
found his way back to his lodgings, was reclining in an easy-chair, 
enjoying a feast of happy memories and bright anticipations, when 
Frere, hot, tired and dissatisfied with his morning’s work, flung 
down his cotton umbrella, and throwing himself, very much un- 
buttoned, in a kind of disheveled heap, upon the nearest chair, be- 
gan: 

Well, confound this climate, say 1, where a man can’t get 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


475 


through a morning’s business without coming home more like a 
piece ol hot boiled beef, than a temperate Christian— here’s a state 
of dissolution for a free-born Briion to be in. 1 tell you what it is, 
young man, if you keep me here much longer, 1 shall become a 
mere walking skeleton— flesh and blood literally can’t stand it, and 
1 shall have to go home and be married in my bones.” 

” By which ceremony 1 suppose you hope to become possessed 
of an additional rib to. make up for your loss of substance,” sug- 
gested Lewis, smiling at the odd quaint way in which his friend 
described his troubles. 

” Yes, it’s all very well for you to sit there and laugh at a fel- 
low,” returned Frere. grumpily, ‘‘but if you had been parading 
about this oven of a place, for two hours, at Governor Grant’s tail, 
as 1 have been, you would find it no such laughing matter, 1 can 
tell you. He is as obstinate and wrong-headed as an elderly uncle, 
too, making a fuss about trifles that do not signify a bit, one way 
or other. Why can not he take life coolly and quietly as— as — ” 

Here he came to an abrupt conclusion, having discovered that the 
grumbling tenor of the speech was somewhat at variance with the 
ending he had intended to make to it, viz., “as 1 do.” Lewis 
finished it for him. 

‘‘ As a sensible man should do, 1 suppose you were going to ob- 
serve.” 

Frere detected the covert satire, and shook his fist threateningly 
at his friend. 

‘‘ Y^ou had better he civil, you know, or 1 maybe tempted to give 
you the thrashing 1 have ow^ed you so long. 1 could not liave a bet- 
ter opportunity than now, when you are so weak that you can 
scarcely walk across the room alone.” 

” Perhaps 1 may be stronger than you are aware of,” returned 
Lewis. ‘‘ What do you think about my being able to go out, for 
instance?” 

” Think,” replied Frere, dognoatically, ” whv 1 think that if you 
attempt it a week hence it will be too soon. Doctor Fullerfee says 
a fortnight, but his is scarcely an unprejudiced opinion; however. 
I'll take care you don’t set foot outside this room within a week.” 

Lewis turned away to hide a smile, while Frere, still suflering 
from heat, and not having another available button which could be 
respectably unfastened, pulled off his neck-cloth, and thus relieved, 
resumed: 

” Whom do you think I’ve been lecturing this morning?’' 

Lewis professed his ignorance, and Frere continued: ‘‘Only a 
certain young lady, in whose proceedings I’ve an idea you take 
particular interest, one Miss Annie Grant.” Lewis started as Frere 
pronounced this name, but recovering himself, asked in an elabo- 
rately indifi:ereut tone of voice. ” Pray, when did this interesting 
colloquy take place, and what might be the subject tliereof?” 

” The colloquy, as you call it, took place some four hours ago, 
and the subject thereof was the young woman’s conduct toward 
your precious self. INow, don’t go and fly into a passion,” con- 
tinued Frere, as Lewis colored, and seemed about to make some 
hasty rejoinder, ‘‘ remember life ought to be taken easily and quiet- 
ly by a sensible man, and of course you consider yourself one; but 


476 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


1 took the liberty to tell Miss General Grant a tew home truths, that 
she will be none the worse for hearing.” 

He then proceeded, after his own fashion, to give an account of 
his conversation with Annie, and his subsequent interview with 
Laura, concluding his recital thus: 

” So the upshot of the whole aftair, and a very unsatisfactory one 
I’m afraid you’ll think it, is this When you had left Brondhurst, 
Maamselle Annie found herself in a bit of a tix, and not being a 
man or Rose Arundel, she, after the fashion of her silly sex. did a 
weak and injudicious thing; but as L said to the other young woman, 
who, by the way, seems to have the best sense of the two, that’s 
very different from doing a deliberately wicked one, and therefore, 
perhaps, Lewis may be induced lo look over it.” 

” For Heaven’s sake, my dear fellow, don’t tell me any more 
about it, you will drive me frantic with your detestable common- 
sense platitudes,” exclaimed Lewis, springing from his chair impa- 
tiently; ” at least you would have done so,” he continued more qui- 
etly, “if 1 had not happened to see Annie since your well-meant 
but somewhat unnecessary interview with her, and learned from 
her owui sweet lips that she forgives me lor having so hastily and 
ungenerously misjudged her.” 

‘‘Eh! what? has the young woman been here in my absence?” 
returned Frere, greatly scandalized. “Oh! this will never do! 1 
don’t allow such liberties to be taken with my patient; besides, 1 
don’t consider the proceeding by any means a correct one; she might 
have found you in bed, with your night-cap on, for aught she could 
tell to the contrary.” 

” Do you know what is reported to have occurred when a mount- 
ain refused to come at Mohammed’s bidding?” asked Lewis, quietly. 

” VV hv Mohammed went to the mountain, to be sure; like an arrant 
humbug as he was; but what has that got to do with the case in 
question? Why, 3 "ou don’t mean to say,” continued Frere, as a 
sudden light broke in upon him, ‘‘you don’t mean to say that 
you'm been to call upon her?'' 

*' 1 am afraid 1 must confess that such is the alarm’ng fact,” was 
the cool reply. 

” Well, I have known many insane actions in my life, certainly,” 
growled Frere, making fruitless attempts to re-button his already 
enfranchised garments, ‘‘ but this,” here he nearly toie a wristband 
oft his shirt in his pursuit of coolness under difficulties, ‘‘ is the very 
maddest thing 1 ever did hear of —a man that was on the point of 
death here not ten days ago, to rush out of bed the moment one’s 
back is turned tor the sake of seeing—” 

‘‘She is looking so sweetly pretty, Frere,” interrupted Lewis. 
‘ And those eyes— there never were such eyes seen in the world be- 
fore.” 

‘‘ Oh, of course not,’* returned Frere, viciously. ‘‘ Patent, double- 
actioned, high-pressure, sky-blue revolvers, made to look every 
way at once, see through mill-stones, and peep round the corner 
into the bargain, they are, no doubt, but if siie could use them to no 
better purpose than to lure out, at the risk of his life, a foolish boy 
that ought lo have had more sense — but it’s a mere waste of words 
talking to you,” he continued, catching u smile on Lewis’s feat- 


LEWIS AKUKDEL. 


477 


iires, “ and here have 1 gone and ruined my other shirt, and this 
one is at the wash — pshaw! 1 mean to say— hang me, if 1 know what 
I mean to say— only, if you’re not the worse tor this— bother the 
boy, ho;v absurdly happy he’s looking. So, it’s all right between 
you, eh! Lewis? Well, Heaven knows you have suflered enough 
to deserve that it should be so, my poor fellow, and though you 
must have been mad to go out, and 1 ought to be very angry with 
you, yet, as it has turned out, and always supposing it does not do 
you any harm, why, 1 am heartily glad you did it,” and so saying, 
Frere, whose feelings and the heat together were decidedly too many 
for him, made a precipitate retreat into the bedroom, where, for the 
present, we will leave him. 


CHAPTER LXV. 

LEWIS OUT- GENERALS THE GENERAL AND THE TRAIN STOPS. 

Lewis’s recovery was not retarded by his imprudent visit to the 
Palazzo Grassini, and Frere had the satisfaction, ere many weeks 
had elapsed, of perceiving that he was strong enough to render their 
return to England practicable. Accordingly, the ” Giaour ” pict- 
ures, and the sketch of Annie and Faust, were carefully packed 
(Lewis having determined to retain them as mementoes of that 
eventful portion of his career which led to their execution). Old 
Antonelli received a pjresent of money sufficient to enable him to 
carry out the darling wish of his heart viz., to bestow upon his son 
the education of a painter, and Lewis and Frere having wound up 
their affairs in Venice, quitted that cily, which, filled with a rabble 
of revolutionary demagogues and their dupes, had become no 
longer a very desirable place of residence. The friends reached 
England without any adventures worthy of record, and Rose was 
compensated for many an hour of anxiety and suspense, by her joy 
in welcoming her brother, and learning from his lips the unmitigat- 
ed satisfaction with which he had hear if of her engagement to Rich- 
ard Frere, and how ihat “glorious fellow ” had redoubled all his 
former obligalious to him, by his sound advice, and tender and 
judicious nursing. If for a moment Frere could have regretted the 
part he had played the loving smile of warm approval with which 
Rose received him, would have compensated him tor a far greater 
expenditure of time and (rouble. But Lewis had much to tell, 
wdiich gave rise to far different emotions in his auditor, and Rose, 
as she grieved for the unlimely fate of poor Jane Hardy, and shud- 
dered at the awful retribution which had overtaken her betrayer, 
breathed a silent thanksgiving Ihat her brother had been restrained 
from any deed of violence, to w’hich bis impetuous disposition, keen 
sensibilities, and quick sense of injury, might have impelled him. 
Lewis had also something to learn as well as to communicate. 

Mrs. Arundel had, in her spirit of opqiiosition to the artless and 
bereaved relict of the late Colonel Brahmin, carried her flirtation 
with that victim of literary ambition, Dackerel Dace, Esq., of that 
ilk, to such a pitch, that when the blighted barrister determined to 
resign his destiny altogether in favor of matrimony, and made her 
an oiler of his limp hand, flabby heart, and five thousand a year, to 


478 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


give piquancy, and flavor to the tasteless insipid trifle he ten- 
ured for her acceptance, that volatile matron felt that she had com- 
mitted herself too deeply to retract, and that, setting oil the money 
against the man, the bargain after all was not such a bad one, and 
so said “ Yes.” Kose disliked the match much herself, and fear- 
ing Lewis would do so still more strongly, she venturea upon a mild 
remonstrance; but when once she had taken a thing into her head 
JMrs. Arundel was very determined, and Rose gained nothing but an 
intimation, halt earnest, half playful, that as she (Mrs. Arundel) had 
not interfered with her daughter, when she chose to engage herself 
to Ursa 3lajor, she expected the same for5^«7Tance (and she empha- 
sized the vile pun most unmistakably) to be exercised toward her 
and her odd-fish, by which nickname she irreverently paraphrased 
the icthyological appellation of her “ future.” 

Lewis, as Rose had feared, was both hurt and annoyed at this 
flesh and convincing proof of his mother’s volatile and worldly 
nature, but there was nothing in the connection to justify his taking 
measures to break off the match. Mrs. Arundel was perfectly free 
to do as she pleased, and competent to decide her own course in life, 
so after one conversation with her on the subject, the nature of 
which may be gathered from the result, he left the affair to take its 
own course. His first step on reaching London w^as to seek an in- 
terview with his legal adviser. Their conference proving satisfac- 
tory, eventuated, to use an affected but expressive word, in sending 
for a patent cab, wherein Lewis ensconced himself, in company with 
a small lawyer and a large blue bag, and the trio drove to Park 
Crescent. The feelings with which Lewis once again stood within 
the library of General Grant’s mansion— that library where he had 
first been engaged to act as poor Waller’s tutor — the room into 
which he and Annie had been shown in the night when he had res- 
cued her from insult in the crush room of the opera, the night of 
the unhappy Mellertoii’s suicide, may w^ell be imagined. Then he 
had been poor, friendless, in the situation of a dependent, and made 
to feel that situation, alike by the open insults of Lord Bellefield 
ana the frigid courtesy of the general and Miss Livingstone, his 
youth, inexperience, sensitive disposition, and proud, impassioned 
nature, rendering all these trials doubly galling to him, w^hile, still 
more to imbilter'his lot, came that ” sorrow’s crown of sorrow^” his 
hopeless attachment to Annie. Now how^ different w^as his position. 
Heir to a large fortune and an ancient and honorable name, his 
affection returned by her he loved, his riral swept from his path 
without his having to reproach himself with participation in the act 
which wrought his downfall, his mind strengthened, his principles 
raised, and his faults diminished, if not eradicated, by the struggle 
he had undergone, and above all, his soul fortified by the proud 
recollection that, through God’s grace, he was enabled at the turn- 
ing-point of his career to sacrifice everything rather than sin against 
his Maker’s law! He received a moderately cordial welcome from 
General Grant, which tepid reception was occasioned by a conflict 
in the mind of that noble commander, between his strong regard 
for Lewis, a sense of the obligations he lay under lo him, and an 
uncomfortable recollection of his attachment to Annie, together with 
the moral impossibility of allowing his daughter to marry a man, 


LEWIS AKUNBEL. 


470 


whose present income consisted of the savings of an ex-tutorship, 
and whose prospects embraced the doubtful proceeds of the profes- 
sion of a portrait-painter. Lewis perceived his embarrassment, and 
rightly conjectured its cause, which it was the object of his visit to 
remove. But General Grant’s cold impeiturbabiliiy had caused him 
so much anuo5^ance in by-gone hours that a slight spice of what the 
French term esprit nialin actuated him, and under its influence he 
began, after a little desultory conversation: 

“ It may possibly not have escaped your memory, general, that 
during a conversation 1 had the honor to hold with you before i 
finally quitted Broadhurst, I mentioned to you my devoted attach- 
ment to Miss Grant. ” ^ 

The general bowed in token of assent, but the cloud upon his 
brow grew darker. Not heeding this, Lewis continued: 

“ 1 remember then expressing myself somewhat strongly against 
certain conventional prejudices relating to inequality of position, 
which opposed an elTectual bar to tlie realization of my wishes. 1 
was young and inexperienced then— I have since become wiser in 
the ways of the wordd, and am perfectly aware, that in speaking as 
1 did on that occasion, 1 alike wasted my words and your valuable 
lime.” 

fie paused, and the general, who had been considerably puzzled 
during the speech to make out what his companion might be aiming 
at, settled, to his own satisfaction, that the increased knowledge of 
human nature to which Lewis alluded, had shown the young man 
the folly of which he had been guilty, and that his speech was in- 
tended as an apology — nothing could be more respectful and cor- 
rect. Accordingly, the cloud vanished, as in his most gracious 
manner he replied: “ Sir, your observations do you credit. Pray 
set your mind at rest on this subject. Fortunately, my daughter 
never had the slightest suspicion of your feelings toward her, and 
for my own part, i had long ago dismissed the affair from my recol- 
lection, and yon may rest assured, that in our future intercourse 
the subject shall never again be broached between ns.” 

As the general alluded to his daughter’s happy ignorance of 
Le^yis’s attachment, a slightly ironical smile curled that young gen- 
tleman’s handsome mouth. Kepressing it instantly, he replied with 
a calm, almost nonchalant air: “ 1 scarcely see how that can be ac- 
complished, General Grant, as the object of my visit here to-day is 
to make you a formal proposal for your daughter's hand.” 

If Lewis had suddenly risen from his chair, and with the lull 
power of his returning strength, hurled that article of furniture al 
General Grant’s head, it might have knocked him down more liter- 
ally than the foregoing speech, but, figuratively, nothing could have 
done so. For a minute or two he appeared utterly unable to frame 
a reply. - Then, drawing himself up to ad»‘gree suggestive of a tele- 
scopic conformation, he began, in. an awful tnneot voice: ” Sir, you 
have astonished me— nay, more than that, sii, you have disappoint- 
ed me— v^ery greatly disappointed me. 1 had hoped better things 
of 3mu, sir. 1 had hoped, from the early promise you evinced, that 
your judgment and good sense would, when matured and strength- 
ened by a little more knowedge of the world, have enabled you to 
conquer your strangely misplaced attachment — would, in fact, have 


480 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


saved me from the painful situation in wliicli you have — to which 
you have— that is you— would have saved yourself (you must not 
blame me, sir, it the truth sounds unpalatable) the humiliation ot a 
refusal/’ 

“ Then 1 am to understand that you unhesitatingly reject my 
suit?” inquired Lewis, something ot the old stern'look coming 
across his features. 

“ Most unequivocally and decidedly,” was the concise reply. 

” It would have been more courteous, and therefore more accord- 
ing to General Grant’s usind conduct, toward those whom he consid- 
ers beneath him in the social scale, to inquire whether any, and, if 
so, what amelioration might have taken place in my future pros- 
pects, to have indued meld hazard so bold a step, ere my proposal 
was so unmistakably declined,” observed Lewis, in a tone of 
manned, yet respectful disapproval. ” It will, however, make no 
difference in my intentions, as when 1 shall have obtained your an- 
swers to a few^ important questions, and explained to you my object 
in making them, it is possible you ma}'’ view my conduct in a difter- 
ent light.” 

The general, who grew’ taller and stifter every moment, merely 
acknowledged this speech by an inclination of the head, so slight as 
to be scarce!}’ perceptible, and Lewis continued; 

The late Sir Desborough, Walter’s grandfather, w^as, 1 be- 

lieve, your intimate friend.” 

‘‘ Bless my soul, yes, sir; we served together in India, w’erefor six 
years in the same regiment, and lived as if we were brothers. Why 
do you ask such extraordinary questions?” exclaimed the general, 
startled completely out of his dignity. 

” Because, in that case, yon are probably well acquainted with 
the Circumstances ot his family history, and can set me right if 1 
state them incorrectly,” replied Lewis, upon whom the mantle ot the 

general’s cast-off dignityappeared to have fallen. ‘‘Sir had 

two sons, i believe. The elder married imprudently, quarreled with 
his father, who refused to receive the lady he had espoused, and 
severing all family ties, lived abroad under a feigned name, and was 
believed to have died without issue. The second son was Walter’s 
father, and AValter inherits the baronetcy, in default of male issue 
ot the elder son.” 

lie paused, and the general observed: ‘‘ You are correct in your 
facts, sir, but to what does all this lead?” 

‘‘ That you w’ill be better able to perceive, sir, when 1 inlorm you, 
that I am prepared to prove indisputably, and to your lull satisfac- 
tion, the following additional particulars. Sir ’s eldest sor... 

Captain Desborough—” 

‘‘Right; he was captain in the — th lancers, and threw uj) his 
commission when he chose to live abroad. It was said he entered 
the Austrian army, and attained the same rank in that service,” in- 
terrupted the general. 

‘‘ He did so,” resumed Lewis, in the same calm, unimpassioned 
voice which he had used throughout the interview, though to any 
one who knew him well, it would have been perceivable that he did 
so by the greatest effort; ‘‘but those that believed that he died 
abroad, and without male issue, were misinformed. He died in 


MWTS AUUXBEL. 481 

England, in the spring of 18 — , and left one son, who is still liv- 
ing.” 

“ Left a son! why, he would be heir to the title and estates, in- 
stead of Waller. Where is he, sir? Who is he?” exclaimed the 
general, impetuously. 

Lewis ro>e. drew himself up to his full height, advanced slowly 
till he stood fare to face with tlie general, and llien, fixing his pierc- 
ing glance upon him, said: ” He now stands before you. General 
Giant, and asks you whether when lie lias established his rights be- 
fore the eyes of the world, you will again refuse him your daugh- 
ter’s hand?” 

Header, the only little bit of mystery in our story (if indeed it 
has presented any mystery at all to your acuteness) is now cleared 
lip, and the interest ended, the sooner the tale itself arrives at a 
conclusion the belter. But for the satisfaction of the unimaginative, 
the strong-minded women and praclical men of the world, wbo can 
not rest assured that two and two make tour till they have counted 
it on their fingers, w^e will write a few more last words, winding up 
the various threads of this veracious history. 

In his interview with General Grant, Lewis had only stated that 
which he w^as fully prepared to prove, and when the lawyer and his 
blue bag (not that lawyers ever do carry blue bags any wliere but in 
farces at the minor Iheateis, or those still more ” unreal mockeries?” 
the pages of modern novels) wau-e called in to assist at the confer- 
ence, the following facts were elicited: 

The packet of le'terS which Lewis found among Hardy’s papers, 
and which gave him the first intimation that he, and not poor Wal- 
ter, was heir to the title and estates of Desborough, had been written 
bjMiis father to bis younger brother, Walter Desborough (the fa- 
ther of tlie poor idiot, wiio was in fact first-cousin to Lewis). The 
cibjtct with which they were written was to bring about a recon- 
ciliation between Sir and Lis eldest son, Walter Desborough 

having undertaken the office of mediator. In order to do this, it 

was first of all necessary to disabuse Sir ’s mind of an idea that 

Captain Desborough's marriage was not valid, and that the children 
w^ere illegitimate; for this purpose the marriage certificate was in- 
closed (proving that he had been iparried in bis own name, and by 
a properly constituted authority),Mogetbcr with certificates of the 
baptism of Rose and of Lewis. The letters also contained an ac- 
count of his having taken the name of Arundel, and his reasons for 
so doing; in fact, without going into minutiae, the letters contained 
complete evidence, legally to establish the identity of (yuptain Des- 
boroiigh and Captain Ariinilel, and to render Lewis’s claim to the 
baronetcy indisputable. • To account for their having been found 
among Ilardy’s papers, it must be borne in mind that Walter Des- 
borough was the scoundrel wiio first roused the evil nature in that 
misguided man, by eloping with his wife. Hardy, be it remem- 
bered, follow^ed the guilty pair, and assaulted the betrayer of his 
honor to such good effect as to confine him to his bed for months. 
His companion in crime returned to her father’s house, and died 
shortly after giving birth to the unfortunate Miles. 

When she leturned, she had bi ought with her a portable writing- 
case, in which weie letters she had received from her seducer, pre- 
16 


482 


LEWIS ARUKDEL. 


vious to her elopemeut. in thig, for convenience of traveling, Wal- 
ter Desborough bad placed papers ot his own, and among others, 
the letters, etc., which he had shortly before received from his 
brother. Long before he recovered from the cllecls ot Hardy’s 
chastisement, he had forgotten where he had placed these papers, 
and Haidy never discovering them (he h'ft his home and enlisted 
as a soldiei, on his release from the impiisonnient Iheassaidt eniailed 
upon him), ihe letters were to all intents and purposes lost, till by 
a chapter of arcidents they fell into the hands ol Lewis. The shock 
which led to Captain Arundel’s (or Desborough, as he should by 
rigid have been called) sudden death, was caused by reading his 

father, Sir ’s demise in the newspaper, and the clew Messrs. 

Jones & Levi had gained, w'as ihrough a shopman in the public 
library, in which Captain Arundel was sitting when he first became 
aware ot his father’s decease, w'bo gathered, from an involunlary 

exclamation he made at the moment, that Sir Desborough s 

death was the subject which had so much excited him. This shop- 
man had been a clerk of Messrs. Jones & Levi, and learning in their 
employ that knowledge was sometimes moneyas well as power, sold 
them tor a couple ot sovereigns the infurmalioii lie had acquired, 
giving at the same time an account of the stiange death of Captain 
Arundel, hence their subsequent application to Lewis. 

The evidence being so clear and full, Lewis had little difficulty 
in establishing his claim, more especially as General Grant, con- 
vinced of its justice, did not attempt to resist it on Walter’s behalf. 
The poor fellow' nimself could not be made to comprehend his change 
ot foitune, but be did comprehend, to bis inexpressible delight, that 
for some reason or oilier be was alw'ays to live with his dear J\Ir. 
Arundel, tvbi», when months bad gone by, and arrangements had 
been made which he neither understood nor heeded, took iiini to a 
grand house of Ids own, where Faust w'us wailing to receive them, 
in a great state of boisterous tail-w'agging affection. And when 
Faust, having licked ibein all over, and having made them damp, 
dusty and rumpled, in the excess of his love, had quite done with 
them, and gone back to a large bone on the drawing-room n:g, and 
Lciwds, placing his arm round Walter’s neck, had whispered to 
him that he was never to go away any more, and that he hoped be- 
fore very long Annie would rome and live wdth them. Waller felt 
suie he had never Known what it w'as to be quite happ}^ till then, 
which fact he afterward communicated to Faust in the strictest 
confidence. 

Lewis’s ngseition in regard to Annie was not based on mere con- 
jecture, for General Giant, albeit he felt that, in the interview w'e 
have lutely recorded between himself arid Lewis, he had been de- 
cidedly c utgeneraled, did not again reject his late tutoi ’s proposal 
for his daughter’s hand but, on the contrary, with the usual self- 
knowledge of w'orldly elderly people, (that is of those who, nine 
times Old of ten, dictate the actions, and influence for w'eal or w^oe 
the future of the young and generous hearted;, the moment he ne- 
came convinced that iicwis was about to inherit a oaronetcy, ana an 
income little short of £10.000 a-year. be contrived to persuade him- 
self tliiit when his first surprise had been passed, and he iiad become 
aware how deeply his daughter’s happiness was involved, he should 


LEWIS ARUNDEL. 


483 


certainly have alloweil her to unite bersclt with Sir Lewis Des- 
horou^li, under his former phase of a precarious portrait-painter. 
But, it we liad been Sir Lewis, we should have felt heartily glad 
we were not forced to rely on such a “ forlorn hope.” 

Rose, no longer Arundel, did not enjoy the name of Desborough 
many weeks, tor although she had particular!}^ vlesired to be married 
on the same day as Lewis and Annie, she yet yielded the point, 
when Ursa Ma^or, hearing that General Grant would not allow his 
daughter’s wedding to lake place for a year after the death of Lord 
Bellefield, grew so outiageous, that Rose was forced to marry him 
out of the way, in order to prevent him from snapping and giowling 
at every one" that came near him. But tliis was his last bearish 
episode, for constant association with Rose softened the little asperity 
of temper, which, having arisen solely from tlie unloved and un 
loving existence he had been forced by circumstances to lead, disap- 
peared in the sunshine of a happy home. 

Lord Ashford did not long survive the loss of his son, and Charley 
Leicester, the portionless younger brother, with “ a good set of teeth 
and nothing to eat,” is now a highly respectable peer of the realm, 
with a rent-roll to be computed by tens of thousands. Happy in 
the affection of his wife and children (for ” Tarley ” has already 
had two successors to dispute the cliance of being ” spoiled by papa, 
only that mamma won’t let him ”), Charles Lord Ashford has but 
one trouble in life, though that unfortunately appears an increasing 
one, viz., that those confounded fellows, Schneider and Shears. 
ioon’t make his waistcoats to fit him as they used to do, they are all 
too tight round the waist— and Schneider and Shears bear the blame 
meekly, having only last weeK discharged an injudicious foreman, 
who had been lash enough lo declare that llieir excellent customer, 
Lord Ashford, was for growing stout. For a short time the 
Countess Portici resided with her brother and sister-in-law, Ales- 
sandro having obligingly got himself knocked on the head in the 
cause of liberty, the reversion of this popular watchword, being 
about the only legacy bequeathed to his young, interesting, and 
not paRicuhirly disconsolate widow, who soon afterward, having 
sown her romance, replaced the handsome Italian by a rich old 
French nobleman, Le Marquis de Carosse-lianquille, irreverently 
translated by Bracy, who is still a bachelor, and makes more puns 
than ever, into ” My Lord Slow-Coach,” a title which the mental 
incapacities of that venerable foreigner rendeied unpleasantly appro- 
priate. The mighty Marmadiike de Grandeville purchased with 

his wife’s money a large es‘ate in shire, which had belonged to 

bis family some five hundred years before. He has since instituted 
a set of regulations for his tenantry, formed on the model of the 
feudal system, and if he be not prematurely suffocated by his owu 
greatness, bids fail to ” add new luster to the noble name which — 
ar— aliemi etc., etc.” 

Mrs. Arundel carried out her design of marrying her ” flighted 
barrister,” and by her liveliness of disposition has done more to- 
ward removing the mildew from his miod than could have been ex- 
pected.- As, however, in accordance with her taste, they live chiefly 
abroad, Lewis and Annie see but little of them. 

The fate of Miles Hardy still remained a mystery. That he did 


484 


LE^'IS ARUXBEL. 


not die of the wounds received in the de:ith-slrn2:g]e with Lord 
Bellefield, was ascertained; but whether he perislied iii the Italian 
revolution, in w'hich he w’as known to take an active part, or, as 
was rumored, escaped in safely to America, the few wha are inter- 
ested in him have failed to learn. 

Annie and Lewis, after their stormy transit aloii" that portion of 
the Railroad of Life upon which w'e have accompanied them, were, 
at length, happily united. Their future fortunes 3a*t lie hid amitl 
the uncut leaves ot the great book of fate; but oiie thing we may 
safely predict, viz., that whatever trials may be in store for them, 
they will find in their mutual affection a source of constant joy and 
consolation, of which the lonely -hearted and uncared for are sadly 
ignorant. 

l^eader, the Railroad op Life is closed. The author would 
fain, take leave of you in the simple words of the old Latin play- 
wright: “ Valete ac 'plaudite,'' but it his consciousness of his own 
shortcomings forbids his seeking your applause, let him at least hope 
that you will not refuse your good wishes to your old acquaintance, 

Frank Fairlegh. 


THE END. 


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Caraco, Pelerine, How to Transpose Measures, Cheiuise, Drawers, Aprons, 
etc., etc. 

I>RICK 35 CEI\TS. 


GEORGE MUNRO, Publisher, 

P. O. Box 3751. 17 to 27 Vandewater St., N. Y. 




It is a solid, 
handsome cake 
of scouring soap, 
I which has no 
eqiial for all cleaning purposes except the laundry. To use it is to value it. 

What will Sapolio do? Why, it will clean paint, make oil-cloths bright, and 
give the floors, tables and slielves a new appearance. 

It will take the grease off the dishes and off the pots and pans. 

Yon can scour the knives and forks with it, and make the tin things shine 
brightly. The wash-hasin, the bath-tub. even the greasy kitchen sink, will be 
as clean as a new pin if you use SAPOLIO, One cake will prove all we 
say. Be a clever little housekeeper and try it. 

BEWARE OF IMITATIONS. 


MUNRO’S PUBLICATIONS, 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY 

POCKET EDITION. 


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P. O. Box 3751. 17 to 27 Vaudewater Street, N. Y. 


LIST OF AUTHORS. 


Works by the author of “ Addie’s 
Husband.” 

888 Addie’s Husband; or, Through 


Clouds to Sunshine 10 

604 My Poor Wife 10 

Works by the author of “ A Great 
Mistake.” 

244 A Great Mistake 20 

246 A Fatal Dower 10 

372 Phyllis’ Probation 10 

461 His Wedded AVife 20 

Mrs. Alexander’s Works. 

5 The Admiral’s Ward 20 

17 The AVooing O’t 20 

62 The Executor 20 

189 Valerie’s Face 10 

229 Maid, AAHfe. or AVidow? 10 

236 AVhich Shall it Be? 20 

839 Mrs. Vereker’s Courier Maid... 10 
490 A Second Life 20 

Alison’s Works. 

194 “So Near, and Yet So Farl”... 10 

278 For Life and Love 10 

481 The House That Jack Built.,.. 10 

F. Anstey’s Works. 

59 Vice Versa 20 

225 The Giant’s Robe 20 

603 The Tinted Venus. A Farcical 
Romance 10 

R. M. Ballantyne’s Works. 

89 The Red Eric 10 

95 The Fire Brigade 10 

96 Erling the Bold 10 

Anne Beale’s Works. 

188 Idonea 20 

199 The Fisher Village 10 

• Basil’s Works, 

844 “ The Wearing of the Green ” . . 20 
547 A Coquette’s Conquest 20 


Walter Be.sant’s Works. 

97 All in a Garden Fair 20 

137 Uncle Jack 10 

140 A Glorious Fortune 10 

146 Love Finds the AA'a5^ and Other 

Stories. By Besant and Rice 10 

230 Dorothy Forster 20 

324 In Luck at Last 10 

William Black’s Works. 

1 Yolande 20 

18 Sliandon Bells 20 

21 Sunrise : A Story of These 

Times 20 

23 A Princess of Thule 20 

39 In Silk Attire 20 

44 Macleod of Dare 20 

49 That Beautiful AA’' retch 20 

50 The Strange Adventures of a 

Phaeton 20 

70 AVhite Wings: A Yachting Ro- 
mance 10 

78 Madcap \h’olet 20 

81 A Daughter of Heth 20 

124 Three Featliers 20 

125 The Monarch of Mincing Lane. 20 

126 Kilmeny 20 

IBS Green Pasture.s and Piccadilly. 20 
265 Judith Shakespeare : Her Love 


Affairs and Other Adventures 20 
472 The AVise AVomen of Inverness. 10 

R. I>. Blackiiiore’s Works. 


67 Lorna Doone 30 

427 The Remai kable History of Sir 
Thomas Upmore, Bart., BI. P. 20 

Miss M. E. Brad«lon’s Works. 

35 Lady And ley’s Secret 20 

56 Phantom Fortune 20 

74 Aurora Floyd .' 20 

HO Under the Red Flag 10 

153 Tlie Golden Calf 20 

204 Vixen 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBBABY.— Pocket Edition. 


Miss M. E. Bracldoii’s Works- 


Continued* 

211 The Octoroon 10 

234 Barbara; or, Splendid Misery. . VO 

203 Ati Ishinaelite 20 

315 Tlie Mistletoe Bough. Edited 

by Miss Braddon 20 

434 Wyllard s Weird 20 

47'8 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. Part I 20 

478 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. Part IT 20 

480 Married in Haste Edited by 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

487 Put to the Test. Edited by Miss 

M. 10. Braddon 20 

488 Joshua Haggard's Daughter 20 

489 Rupert Godwin 20 

435 Mount Royal 20 

490 Only a Woman. Edited by Miss 

M‘. E Braddon. 20 

497 The Lady’s Mile 20 

498 Only a Clod 20 

499 The Clc zen Foot 20 

611 A Strange Woi’ld 20 

515 Sir .Jasper’s Tenant 20 

524 Strangei-s atid Pilgrims 20 

529 The Doctoi''s Wife 20 

542 Fenton’s Quest 20 

541 Cut by the County; or, Grace 

Darnel 10 

648 The Fatal Marriage, and The 

Shadow in the Corner 10 

549 Dudley Carleon ; or. The Broth- 
er’s Seci et, and George Caul- 
field’s Journey, 10 

6.52 Hostages to Fortune 20 

553 Birds of Prey 20 

554 Cluirlotte’s Inheritance. (Se- 

quel to “ Birds of Prey ”).... 20 

557 To the Bitter Eiid . 20 

,5.59 Taken at the Flood,.. 20 

6(50 Asphodel 20 

501 Just as I am; or, A Living Lie 20 

Works by Cliarlorre M, Braeme, 
Author of “ J)ora Thorne.^ 

19 Her Mother’s Sin 10 

51 Dora Tliorne 20 

54 A Broken Wedding-Ring 20 

08 A Queen Amongst Women 10 

09 Madolin’s Lover 20 

73 Redeemed by Love 20 

70 Wife in Name Only 20 

79 Wedded and Parted 10 

92 Lord Lynne’s Choice 10 

148 Thorns and Orange-Blossoms. . 10 

190 Romance of a Black Veil 10 

220 Which I.oved Him Best? 10 

237 Repented at Leisure..... 20 

249 Prince Charlie’s Daughter ” . . 10 

250 Sunshine and Roses; or, Di- 

ana’s Discipline 10 

254 The Wife’s Secret, and Fair 

but False 10 

283 The Sin of a Lifetime 10 

287 At War With Herself 10 

288 From Gloom to Sunlight 10 


291 Love’s Warfare 10 

292 A Golden Heart 10 

293 The Shadow of a Sin 10 

294 Hilda 10 

295 A Woman’s War 10 

29(5 A Rose in Thorns 10 

297 Hilary’s Folly 10 

299 The Fatal Lilies, and A Bride 

from the Sea 10 

300 A Gilded Sin, and A Bridge of 

Love 10 

303 Ingledew House, and More Bit- 

ter than Death 10 

304 In Cupid’s Net 10 

305 A Dead Heart, and Lady Gwen- 

doline’s Dream 10 

30G A Golden Dawn, and Love for 

a Day 10 

307 Two Kisses, and Like no Other 

Love 10 

308 Beyond Pardon 20 

411 A Bitter Atonement 20 

433 My Sister Kate 10 

459 A Woman’s Temptation 20 

4G0 Under a Shadow 20 

4G5 The Earl’s Atonement 20 

46G Between Two Loves 20 

4G7 A Struggle for a Ring 20 

469 Lady Darner’s Secret.., 20 

470 Evelyn’s Folly 20 

471 Tlirown on the World 20 

476 Between Two Sins 10 

516 Put Asunder; or. Lady Castle- 

niaine’s Divorce 20 

Charlotte Bronte’s Works, 

15 Jane Eyre 20 

57 Shirley 20 

Bhoda Broughton’s Works. 

86 Belinda 20 

101 Sefcond Thoughts 20 

227 Nancy 20 

Robert Buchanan’s Works. 

145 “ Storm-Beaten ;” God and The 

Man 20 

154 Annan Water 20 

181 The New Abelard 10 

398 Blatt: A Tale of a Caravan 10 

Captain Fred Burnaby’s Works. 

375 A Ride to Khiva 20 

384 On Horseback Thiough Asia 

Minor 20 

E. Fairfax Byrriie’s Works. 

521 Entangled 20 

538 A Fair Country Maid..., 20 

Hall Caine’s Wo2’ks. 

445 The Shadow of a Crime 20 

520 She’s All the World to Me 10 

Rosa Noucliette Carey’s Works. 

215 Not Like Other Girls 20 

396 Robei't Oi'd’s Atonement 20 

551 Barbara Heathcote’s Trial 20 


THE SEASIDE LTBRADY,-PocM Edition, 


Wilkie Collins’s Works. 


52 The New Magrdaleii 10 

102 The Moonstone-- 20 

1(5 r Heart and Science 20 

168 No Thoronjrhfare. By Dickens 

and Collins 10 

175 Love’s Random Shot 10 

283 ‘ I Say No;" or, The Love-Let- 
ter Answered 20 

508 The Girl at me Gate 10 

Ilusrli Conway’s Works. 

240 Called Back 10 

251 The Dauifhter of the Stars, and 

Other Tales 10 

301 Dark Days 10 

302 'Fhe Blatchford Bequest 10 

502 Carriston's Gift 10 

525 Paul Vargas, and Other Stories 10 
543 A Famil}^ Affair. . 20 


J. Feniinore Cooper’s Works. 

GO The Last of the Mohicans 20 

63 The Spy 20 

309 The Pathfinder 20 

310 The Praii ie 20 

318 The Pioneers; or, The Sources 

of the Susquehanna 20 

349 The Two Admirals. A Tale of 

the Sea 20 

359 The Water-Witch 20 

361 The Red Rover. A Tale of the 

Sea 20 

373 Wing and Wing 20 

378 Homeward Bound; or, The 

Chase 20 

379 Home as Found. (Sequel to 

“Homeward Bound") 20 

380 Wyandotte; or. The Hutt§d 

Knoll 20 

385 The Headsman; or, The Ab- 

baye des Viguerons 20 

394 The Bravo 20 

397 Lionel Lincoln; or. The Leag- 
uer of Boston 20 

400 The Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish. . . 20 

413 Aflo.at and Ashore 20 

414 Miles Wallingfoi-d. (Sequel to 

“ Afloat and Ashore ") 20 

415 The Wa.vs of the Hour 20 

416 Jack Tier; or, The FloridaReef 20 

419 The Chainbearer ; or, The Little- 

page Manuscripts 20 

420 Satanstoe; or, The Littlepage 

Manuscripts 20 

421 The Redskins; or, Indian and 

Injiu. Being the conclusion 
of the Littlepage Manuscripts 20 
*722 Precaution 20 

423 The Sea Lions; or. The Lost 

Sealers 20 

424 Mercedes of Castile; or, The 

Voyage to Cathay 20 

425 The Oak-Openings ; or. The Bee- 

Hmiter *. .. 20 

431 The Mouikins. 20 


B. M. Croker’s Works. 


207 Pretty Miss Neville 2(1 

260 Proper Pride 10 

412 Some One Else 20 


Charles Dickens’s Works. 

10 Tlie Oi l Curiosity Shop 20 

22 David Co])perfield. Vol. 1 20 

22 David Copperfield. Vol. IT.... 20 

24 Pickwick Papers. Vol. 1 20 

24 Pickwick Papers, Vol. II 20 

37 Nicholas Nickleby. First lialf . 20 
37 Nicholas Nickleby. Second half 20 

41 Oliver Twist 20 

77 A Tale of Two Cities 20 

84 Hard Times 10 

91 Barnaby Rudge 20 

94 Little Dorrit. First half 20 

94 Little Dorrit. Second half 20 

106 Bleak House, Fii'sthalf 20 

106 Bleak House. Second half 20 

107 Dombey and Son 40 

108 The Cricket on the Hearth, and 

Doctor Marigold 10 

131 Our Mutual Friend 40 

132 Master Humphrey’s Clock 10 

152 The Uncommercial Traveler, . , 20 

168 No Thoroughfare. By Dickens 

and Collins 10 

169 The Haunted Man 10 

437 Life and A<lventures of Martin 

Cliuzzlewit. First half 20 

437 Life and Adventures of I\Iartin 

Cliuzzlewit. Second half 20 

439 Gi-eat Expectations... 20 

440 Mis. Lirriper’s Lodgings 10 

447 American Notes. 20 

448 Pictures From Italy, and The 

IMudfog Papers. &c 2(1 

454 The Mystery of Edwin Drood.. 20 

456 Sketches b.y Boz. Illustrative 
of Every-ilay Life and Every- 
day People. 2( 


F. Du Boi^gobey’s Works. 

82 Sealed Japs 2/, 

104 The Coral Pin ^ 

264 Pi^douche, a French Detective. U 
328 Bahiole, the Pretty Milliner. 

First half 

328 Bahiole, the Pretty Milliner. 

Second half 2<4 

453 The Lottery Ticket 20 

475 'I'he Prima Donna's Husband. . 2(i 

522 Zig-Zag, the Clown; or. Steel 

Clauntlets 2( 

523 The Consequences of a Duel. A 

Parisian Romance 2tr 


“The Diiche.ss’s” Works. 


2 Molly Bawn 20 

6 Portia 20 

14 Airv Fairy Lilian 10 

16 Phyllis 20 

25 Mrs. Geoffrey 20 

29 Beauty’s Daughters 10 

30 Faith andUnfaith 20 

118 Loys, Lord Berresford, and 

Eric Dering 10 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.— Pocket Edition 


“ TlieDucliess’s” Works— Con- 


tiuiied. 

119 Monica, and A Rose Distill’d. .. 10 

133 Sweet is True Love 10 

1)89 Rossmoyne 10 

134 Tiu* Witching Hour, and Other 

Stories 10 

136 “That Last Rehearsal,” and 

Other Stories 10 

166 Moonshine and Marguerites 10 

171 Fortune’s Wheel 10 

284 Doris 10 

312 A VVeek in Killarney 10 

342 Tlie Baby, and One New Year’s 

Eve 10 

390 Mildred Trevanion 10 

404 In Durance Vile, and Other 

Stories 10 

486 Dick’s Sweetheart 20 

494 A Maiden All Forlorn, and Bar- 
bara 10 

517 A Passive Crime, and Other 

Stories 10 

611 “ As It Fell Upon a Day,” 10 

Alexander Dumas’s Works* 

55 The Three Guardi^nen 20 

75 Twenty Years After 20 

259 The Bride of Monte-Cristo. A 
Sequel to “The Count of. 

Monte-Cristo ” 10 

262 The Count of Monte-Cristo. 

Part 1 20 

262 The Count of Monte-Cristo. 
Part II 20 

George Eliot’s Works. 

3 The Mill on the Floss 20 

31 Middlemarch 20 

34 Daniel Derouda 30 

36 Adam Bede 20 

42 Rornola 20 


Emile G’rboriau’s Works. 

7 File No. 113 20 

12 Other People’s Money 20 

20 Within an Inch of Jlis Life 20 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. Vol 1 20 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. Vol. II 20 

33 The Clique of Gold 10 

38 The Wi^o\v L^rouge 20 

43 The Mystet' 3 * of Oi’cival 20 

144 Promises of Marriage 10 

Charles Gibbon’s Works. 

64 A Maiden Fair 10 

317 By Mead and Stream 20 

Miss Grant’s Works. 

222 The Sun-Maid 20 

555 Cara Roma 20 

Thomas Hardy’s W^orks. 

139 The Romantic Adventures of 

a Milkmaid 10 

530 A Pair of Blue Eyes 20 

John B, Harwood’s Works. 

143 One False, Both Fair 20 

358 Within the Clasp 20 

Mary Cecil Hay’s Works. 

65 Back to tlie Old Home 10 

72 Old Myddelton's Money 20 

196 Hidden Perils...- 10 

197 For Her Dear Sake 20 

224 The Arundel Motto 10 

281 The Squire's Legacy 20 

290 Nora’s Love Test 20 

408 Lester’s Secret 20 

Works by the Author of “Judith 
Wynne.” 

3.32 Judith Wynne 20 

506 Lady Lovelace 20 


G. MauTille Fenn’s Works, 


193 The Rosery Folk 10 

558 Poverty Corner 20 

Octave Feuillet’s Works. 

66 The Romance of a Poor Young 

Man 10 

386 Led Astray; or, “La Petite 

Comtesse ” 10 

Mrs. Forrester’s Works. 

80 June 20 

280 Omnia Vanitas. A Tale of So- 
ciety 10 

484 Although He Was a Lord, and 
Other Tales 10 

R. E. Francillon’s Works. 

135 A Great Heiress: A Foitune 

in Seven Checks 10 

319 Face to Face : A Fact in Seven 

Fables 10 

360 Ropes of Sand 20 


William H, G, Kingston’s Works. 

117 A Tale of the Shore and Ocean. 20 


133 Peter the AYhaler 10 

Charles Lever’s Works. 

191 Harry Lorrequer 20 

212 Chai ies 0’Malle3^ the Irish Dra- 
goon. First half 20 

212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dra- 
goon. Second hnlf 20 

243 Tom Burke of “Ours.” First 

half 20 

243 Tom Burke of “ Ours.” Sec- 
ond half 2( 

Sir E. Bulwer Lytton’s Works. 

40 The Last Days of Pompeii 26 

83 A Strange Story 20 

90 Ernest Malt ravers 26 

130 The Last of the Barons. First 

half 2( 

130 The Last of the Barons. Sec- 
ond half 20 

162 Eugene Aram 20 

164 Leila ; or, The Siege of Grenada 10 


TEE SEASIDE LIBBABY.— Pocket Edition, 


George Macdonald’s Works, 


282 Dona) Grant '20 

325 The Portent 10 

326 Phantastes. A Faerie Romance 

for Men and Women 10 

Florence Marryat’s Works, 

i59 A Moment of Madness, and 

Otiier Stories 10 

183 Old Contrairy, and Other 

Stories 10 

208 The Glmst of Charlotte Cray, 

and Other Stories 10 

276 Under the Lilies and Roses — 10 

444 The Heart of Jane Warner 20 

449 Peeress and Player 20 

Captain Marryat’s Works, 

88 The Privateersman 20 

2?'2 The Little Savage 10 

Helen B, Mathers’s Works, 

13 Eyre’s Acquittal 10 

221 Coinin’ Thro’ the Rye 20 

438 Found Out 10 


Mrs, Alex, McVeigh Miller’s 
Works, 


207 Laurel Vane; or, The Girls’ 

Conspiracy,.'. 20 

268 Lady Gay’s Pride; or, The 

Miser’s Tieasnre 20 

209 Lancaster’s Choice 20 

316 Sworn to Silence; or. Aline 
Rodney’s Secret 20 

Jean Middlesiias’s Works, 

155 Lady Muriel's Secret 20 

539 Silvermead 20 

Alan Muir’s Works, 

172 “Golden Girls’’ 20 

346 Tumbledown Farm 10 

Miss Mnlock’s Works, 

11 Jolin Halifax, Gentleman 20 

245 Miss Tommy 10 

David Christie Murray’s Works, 

58 By the Gate of the Sea 10 

195 “The Way of the World ” 20 

320 A Bit of Human Nature 10 

W. E, Norris’s Works, 

184 Thirl by Hall 20 

277 A Man of His Word 10 

355 That Teri’ible Man 10 

600 Adrian Vidal 20 

liaureuce Oliphant’s Works, 

47 AltioraPeto 20 

537 Piccadilly 10 


Mrs, Oliphant’s Works, 

45 A Little Pdgrim 10 

177 Salem Chapel 20 

205 The Minister’s Wife 30 

321 The Prodigals, and Their In- 
heritance 10 

337 Memoirs a.nd Resolutions of 
Adam Graeme of Mossgray, 
including some Chronicles of 

the Borough of Feudie 20 

345 Madam 20 

351 The House on the Moor 20 

357 John 20 

370 Lucy Crof ton 10 

371 Margaret Maitland 20 

377 Magdalen Hepburn : A Story of 

the Scottish Reformation 20 

402 Lilliesleaf; or. Passages in the 
Life of Mrs Margaret Mait- 
land of Simnyside 20 

410 Old Lady Mary 10 

527 The Da\ s of My Life . 20 

528 At His Gates 20 

“ Ouida’s” Works, 

4 Under Two Flags 20 

9 Wanda, Countess von Szalras.. 20 

116 Moths 20 

128 Afternoon and Other Sketches. 10 

226 Friendship 20 

2'18 Princess Napraxine 20 

238 Pascarel 20 

239 Signa 20 

433 A Rainy June 10 

James Payn’s Works, 

48 Thicker Than Water 20 

186 The Canon’s Ward 20 

343 The Talk of the Town 20 

Mrs. Campbell Praed’s Works, 

428 Zero: A Story of Monte-Carlo. 10 
477 Affinities . . . 10 

Eleanor C, Price's Works. 

173 The Foreigners 20 

331 Gerald 20 

Charles Reade’s Works, 

46 Very Hard Cash 20 

98 A Woman-Hater 20 

206 The Picture, and Jack of All 

Trades 10 

210 Readiana: Comments on Cur- 
rent Events 10 

213 A Terrible Temptation 20 

214 Put Yourself in His Place 20 

216 Fonl Play 20 

231 Griffith Gaunt; or, Jealous.y... 20 

232 Love and Money ; oi', A Perilous 

Secret 10 

235 “ It is Never Too Late to 
Mend.” A Matter-of-Fact Ro- 
mance 20 

“ Rita’s” Works, 

2.52 A Sinless Secret 10 

446 Dame Durden 20 


TUE SEASIDE LIBRAIIY.— Pocket Edition, 


F# W. Robinson’s WorZi3. 

157 Milly’sHero ‘lO 

217 The Man She Cared For 20 

261 A Fair Maid 20 

455 Lazarus in London 20 

W. Clark Russell’s Works. 

85 A Sea Queen 20 

109 Little Loo 20 

180 Round the Galley Fire 10 

209 John Holdsw'orth, Cliief Mate. . 10 
223 A Sailor’s Sweetheart 20 

Sir Walter Scott’s Works. 

28 Ivanhoe 20 

201 The Monastery 20 

202 TJie Abbot. (Sequel to “The 

Monastery ”) 20 

353 The Black Dwarf, and A Le- 
gend of Montrose 20 

302 The Bride of Lamniermoor 20 

303 The Surgeon’s Daughter 10 

1304 Castle Dangerous 10 

391 Tlie Heart of Mid-Lothian 20 

392 Peveril of the Peak 20 

393 The Pirate 20 

401 Waverley 20 

417 Tlie Fair Maid of Perth; or, St. 

Valentine’s Day 20 

418 St. Honan’s Well 20 

403 Redgauntlet. A Tale of the 

Eighteenth Century 20 

507 Chi'onicles of the (^anongate, 

and Other Stories 10 

Hawley Smart’s Works. 

348 Fj'oiu Post to Finish. A Racing 

Romance 20 

307 Tie and Trick 20 

550 Struck Down 10 

Frank E. Snie«lley’s Works. 

333 Frank Fairlegh; or, Scenes 
from the Life of a Private 

Pupil 20 

562 Lewis Arundel* or, The Rail- 
road of Life 20 


Eugene Sue’s Works. 

270 The Wandering Jew. Parti... 20 

270 The Wandering Jew. Part II. . 20 

271 The Mysteries of Paris. Parti. 20 
271 The Mysteries of Paris. Part II. 20 

William M, Thackeray’s Works. 


27 Vanity Fair 20 

165 The liistory of Henry Esmond. 20 

464 4’he Newcomes. Part 1 20 

464 Tlie Newcomes. Part H 20 

531 The Prime Minister (l«t half).. 20 
531 The Prime Minister (2d halt).. 20 

Annie Thomas’s Works. 

141 She Loved Him ! 10 

142 Jenifer.. 20 


Anthony Trollope’s Works. 


32 The Land Leaguers 20 

93 Anthony Trollope’s Autobiog- 
raphy 20 

147 Rachel Ray ^ 

200 An Old Man’s Love 10 

Jules Verne’s Works. 

87 Dick Sand ; or, A Captain at 

Fifteen 20 

100 20.000 Leagues Under the Seas. 20 
308 The Southern Star ; or, the Dia- 
mond Laud 20 

395 The Archipelago on Fire 10 

Ij. B. Wal ford’s Works. 

241 The Baby’s Grandmother 10 

250 Mr. Smith : A Part of His Life. 20 
258 Cousins 20 

F. Warden’s Works. 

192 At the World’s Mercy 20 

248 The House on the Marsh 10 

280 Deldee; or. The Iron Hand 20 

,482 A Vagrant Wife 20 

556 A Prince of Darkness 20 

G. J. Whyte-Melville’s Works. 

409 Ro 3 ’^'s Wife 20 

451 Market llarborough, and Inside 

the Bar 20 

Mrs. Henry Wood’s Works. 

8 East Lynne 20 

255 The Mystery 20 

277 The Surgeon’s Daughters 10 

508 The Unholy Wish 10 

513 Helen Wiiitney’s Wedding, and 

Othei- Tales 10 

514 The Mystery of Jessy Page, and 

Other Tales 10 

Charlotte 31. Yonge’s Works. 

247 The Armourer's Prentices 10 

275 The Three Brides 10 

535 Henrietta’s Wish. A Tale 10 

31isceilnneoiis. 

53 The Stoiy of Ida. Frauce.sca.. 10 
71 A Struggle for Fame. Mrs. J. 

H. Riddell 20 

61 Charlotte Temple. Mrs. Row- 

son 10 

99 Barbara’s History. Amelia B. 

Edwards 20 

103 R<ise Fleming. Dora Rus.sell.. 10 

105 A Noble Wife. Jolm Saunders 20 

111 The Little School-master Mark. 

J. H. Sliorthouse 10 

112 The Waters of Marah. John 

Hill 20 

113 Mrs. Carr’s Coiiipauion. M. G. 

Wightwick 10 

114 Some of Our Girls. Mrs. C. J. 

Eiloart 20 

115 Diamond Cut Diamond. T. 

Adolphus Trollope 10 

120 Tom Brown’s School Days at 
Rugby. Thomas Hughes .... 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.— Pocket Edition. 


Miscellaneous— Coiitiimed. 


121 Maid of Athens. Justin Mc- 

Carthy 20 

122 lone Stewart. Mrs. E. Lynn 

Linton . 20 

127 Adrian Brig-lit. Mrs, Caddy 20 

149 The Captain's Daughter. From 

the Russian of Pushkin 10 

150 For Himself Alone. T. W. 

Speight 10 

151 The Diioie Diamonds. C. Blath- 

erwick 10 

15G “For a Dream’s Sake.” Mrs. 

Herbert Martin 20 

1.5b The Starling. Norman Mac- 

leod, D.D 10 

160 Her Gentle Deeds. Sarah Tyt- 

ler 10 

161 The Lady of Lyons. Founded 

on the Play of that title by 

Lord Lytton 10 

163 ^Yinifred Power. Joyce Dar- 
rell 20 

170 A Great Treason. Mary Hop- 

pus 30 

174 Under a Ban. Mrs. Lodge 20 

176 An April Day. Philippa Prit- 

tie JepUson 10 

178 More Leaves from the Journal 

of a Life in the Highlands. 
Queen Victoria 10 

179 Little Make-Believe. B. L. Far- 

jeon 10 

182 The Millionaire 20 

185 Dita. Lady Margaret Majendie 10 
187 The Midnight Sun. Fredrika 

Bremer 10 

198 A Husband’s Story 10 

203 John Bull and His Island. Max 

O’Rell 10 

218 Agnes Sorel. G. P. R. James.. 20 

219 Lady Clare : or. The Master of 

the Forges. From French of 

Georges Ohnet 10 

242 The Two Orphans. D'Enneiy. 10 
253 The Amazon. Carl Vosmaer. . 10 
257 Beyond Recall. Adeline Ser- 
geant 10 

266 The Water-Babies. Rev. Chas. 

Kingsley 10 

273 Love and Mirage; or, The Wait- 

ing on an Island. M. Beth- 
am-Ed wards 10 

274 Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, 

Princess of Great Britain and 
Ireland. Biographical Sketch 

and Lettei's 10 

279 Little Goldie : A Story of Wom- 
an’s Love. Mrs. Sumner Hay- 
den . 20 

285 The Gambler's Wife 20 

289 John Bull’s Neighbor in Her 
True Light. A ‘‘ Brutal Sax- 
on ” 10 

298 Mitchelhurst Place. Margaret 

Veley 10 

311 Two Years Before the Mast. R. 

H. Dana, Jr 20 


The Lover's Creed. Mrs. Cash- 
el Hoey 20 

Peril. Jessie Fotliergill 20 

A AVoman’s Love-Stoiy 10 

AAVillful Maid 20 

Raymond's Atonement. E, 

Werner 20 

The Polish Jew. (Translated 
from tlie French by Cai oline. 

A. Merighi.) Erckmann Cliat- 
riaii 10 

May Blossom ; or. Between Two 

Loves. Margaret Lee 20 

A Marriage of Convenience. 

Harriett Jay 10 

The AA^hite AVitch 20 

Phiiistia. Cecil Power 20 

The Family Difficulty. Sarah 

Doudney 10 

Under Which King? Compton 

Reade 20 

Madolin Rivers; or. The Little 
Beauty of Red Oak Seminary. 

Laura Jean Libbey 20' 

As Avon Flows. Henry Scott 

Vince 20 

Diana of tlie Crossvvaj’^s. George 

Meredith 10 

At Any Cost Edward Garrett. 10 
The Lottery of IJfe. A Story- 
of New York Twenty Years 
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The Princess Dagomar of Po- 
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A Good Hater. Frederick Boyle 20 
George Christy ; or, The For- 


tunes of a Minstrel. Tony 

Pastor 20 

Tlie M\Rterious Hunter; or. 
The Man of Death. Capt. L. 

C. Carleton 20 

Miss Bretherton. Mrs. Hum- 
phry AVard 10 

The bead IMan’s Secret. Dr. 

Jupiter Paeon 20 

The Crime of Christmas Day. 
The author of My Ducats 

and My Daughter” 10 

The Red Cardinal. Frances 
Elliot • 10 

Three Sisters. Elsa D'Esterre- 

Keeling 10 

Introduced to Society. Hamil- 
ton A 'id 6 10 

The Secret of the Cliffs. Char- 
lotte Fl ench 20 

Ichabod. A Portrait. Bertha 

Thomas 10 

Miss Brown. Vernon Lee 20 

An English Squire. C. R. Cole- 
ridge 20 

My Friends and 1. Edited by 

Julian Sturgis 10 

The Merchant’s Clerk. Samuel 
Wairen 10 

Tylney Hall. Thomas Hood. . . 20 
Venus’s Doves. Ida Ashworth 
Taylor 20 


313 

314 

322 

323 

327 

329 

330 

334 

3:^5 

336 

338 

340 

341 

347 

350 

352 

354 

355 

356 

365 

366 

369 

374 

376 

381 

382 

383 

387 

389 

399 

403 

405 

406 

407 

426 


THE SEASIDE LTBBABY— Pocket Edition. 


Miscellaneous— Continued. 

439 Boulderstone; or, New Men and 
Old Populations. William 

Sime 10 

430 A Bitter Reckoning-. Author 

of “By Crooked Paths ’’ 10 

432 The Witcli’s Head. H. Rider 

Haggard 20 

435 Klytia: A Story of Heidelberg 

Castle. George Taylor 20 

43G Stella. Fanny Lewaid 20 

441 A Sea Change. Flora L. Shaw. 20 

442 Ranthorpe. George Henry 

Lewes 20 

443 The Bachelor of the Albany... 10 
4,50 Godfrey Helstone. Georgiana 

M. Craik 20 

452 In the W'est Countrie. May 

Crornmelin 20 

457 The Russians at the Gates of 

Herat. Charles Marvin 10 

458 A Week of Passion ; or, The 

Dilemma of Mr. George Bar- 
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462 Alice’s Adventures in Wonder- 
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With forty-two illustrations 

by John Tenniel 20 

468 The Fortunes, Good and Bad, 
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473 A Lost Son. Mary Linskill 10 


474 Serapis. An Historical Novel. 

George Ebers 20 

479 Louisa. Katharine S. Macquoid 20 

483 Betwixt My Love and Me 10 

485 Tinted Vapours. J. Maclaren 

Cobban 10 

491 Society in London. A Foreign 

Resident 10 

492 Mignon ; or, Booties’ Baby. Il- 

lustrated. J. S. Winter 10 

493 Colonel Enderby’s Wife. Lucas 

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501 Mr. Butler’s Ward. F. Mabel 

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510 A Mad Love. Author of “ Lover 

and Lord ’’ 10 

512 The Waters of Hercules 20 

504 Curly: An Actor's Story. John 

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505 The Society of London. Count 

Paul- Vasili 10 

509 Nell HalTenden. Tighe Hopkins 20 

518 The Hidden Sin ^ 

519 James Gordon’s Wife 20 

526 Madame De Presnel. E. Fran- 
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532 Arden Court. Barbara Graham -20 

534 Jack. Alphonse Daudet 20 

536 Dissolving Views. By Mrs. An- 
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540 At a High Price. E. Werner.. 20 

545 Vida’s Story. By the author of 

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546 I^Irs. Keith’s Crime. A Novel.. 10 


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